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Chapter Text

A thought, a second, the length of a fleeting moment, is the difference between eternity and oblivion.

Voldemort wished for immortality. Careful the wishes you make; wishes come true not free.

Do not judge me too harshly (Oh god, I raped a ten-year-old!); this is not what I was meant to be. Or perhaps do. Perhaps even the gods need judgement.

This is my tale; not the story of the war, but of where I went after; not the story of my life, but of my never-ending death. (I am the Forever Man.)

But before we begin, let me tell you a secret; and keep it in mind always, reader of the histories of the world. Death is chance. That is why it is inevitable. In the end, the odds catch up with us all.

And the clock ticks on.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me.

I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.

You have until midnight."

‘Very few people liked Tom Riddle,’ mused Harry, ‘but one could not help but respect him. A masterful pronouncement, thought up on the spur of the moment, and yet no number of speechwriters or orators could have done better.

It would be tempting, so tempting now, for somebody to just Stun me and hand me over to the Dark Lord’ (‘Grab him!’ somebody shrieked, and he paid it no mind), ‘so easy for somebody to assure themselves both victory and safety.’

‘There will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right.’ Three years ago, those words had been spoken in this very Hall, and now the weight of their shadow fell upon those within it once more.

‘They were fighting now, noise and anger filling the walls as student glared at student, House fought House, and it was all so pointless. It had been years since my mind was this clear – had it been like this before Voldemort was resurrected? It was difficult to remember anymore. Distant times, and one could not imagine them ever coming back again; too much death(Death) lay in the way.’

Neville, he knew, would kill Nagini, taking the last of Voldemort’s Horcruxes to the other side. Only one was left to deal with now, and Voldemort had just summoned him.

It was an unfamiliar sensation – he knew something that the Dark Lord did not. Like a map he saw it laid before him (no, not a map but a clock ticking on), and he saw that there was no battle, there were no other people in this vast, lonely castle. It was just the two of them, him and Tom Riddle playing a game, with plans that they had set against each other, each seeking to be the victor.

And no one knew it yet, but Harry had already won. The Snitch was already caught.

He sought out Hermione – Hermione, brilliant Hermione who aced every subject but was unparalleled in Transfiguration – and drew her into a corner.

“I need you to do something for me.” He said.

It matters not how strait the gate, 

How charged with punishments the scroll,

The walk to the gallows was not as difficult as it was made out to be – it was all, Harry reflected, a matter of choice. He walked lighter now, unburdened either by destiny or by the future. Now at last, he felt, he had unraveled the last of the machinations set into place by Dumbledore (seven Horcruxes and three Hallows, all for him to claim), and now went willingly where before he had been led blindly.

I am the master of my fate, 

I am the captain of my soul.

Now, perhaps, he knew his old Headmaster better than he could have ever claimed to before, and he felt not the awe of previous years, but an overwhelming sense of pity. Wisdom, even more than Prophecy, was a burden than estranged men from the world, for it left one with no peers, nothing but a terrible foreknowledge of what was to come.

He walked now with his eyes wide open, and in his hands clutched the one weapon that would change the course of the war – not the bloody Wand that Voldemort held in his hand, not the Stone-that-Called, liberated from a Snitch; not even his faithful Cloak, silver and whispering-soft. It was nothing so great, nothing so branded onto the scarred face of history… but it was good enough.

He smiled as he saw Voldemort’s eyes, watching him from under the Cloak (but even as he watched he felt another pair of eyes upon him, terror and despair building somewhere above). He stepped out from under the Cloak.

“You weren’t wrong, Tom.”

Walking closer, walking closer even as Voldemort’s amusement increased. Three paces, two paces, one pace.

“You just couldn’t see the bigger picture, you couldn’t see what was going on.”

Keep him angry, keep him off-balance; make him look at one hand and do the magic with the other.

“Game over, Voldemort. The Snitch has been caught.” (But somebody else heard those words, somebody who was more afraid than anyone in that Forest, and somebody made a gamble for survival.)

As the green light sped towards him, he opened his hand. The grenade, lever now free, fell to the mossy floor a yard from Tom Riddle’s foot.

It had been nice to meet the Headmaster again – and he would always be the Headmaster, alive or cold bones in the earth – simple and peaceful in a way that so few things had been lately. Their chat had, of course, been cryptic and completely indecipherable, as all chats with the Headmaster tended to be, but interesting for all that.

The train whisked him back to Life, and he opened his eyes.

He was falling backwards, watching every person present go for their wands as the grenade bounced off the ground.

Ahhh crap.

Sweet sodomizing Salazar, that had hurt!

He opened his eyes again – it seemed to be all he was doing nowadays, hopping back-and-forth between Life and Death – to the view of unending expanses of white. He was seated, as was the… the thing in front of him. He blinked.

Completely nondescript, right down to gender. Okay.

“Hello.” He said. “Are you Death?” Because honestly, Death was supposed to be dressed in a robe with a scythe, and this was not how it was supposed to go.

It seemed startled for an instant, before shaking Its head. “No.” It said, and as It spoke a shiver of fear ran down his spine. “I am not Death. I am the Builder.”

Well, this didn’t look like a train station either, so that seemed to fit, but he was fairly sure that he should have been dead.

“Am I dead?” he asked curiously. It did not seem to have moved in this time.

“Yes, as far as it is possible for you to die.” It tilted its head. “You do not seem afraid.”

He shrugged (but that was a lie, he had never been more afraid in his life, but Death was not what he was afraid of). “Dying is just the Next Great Adventure.” He said. “It isn’t so bad. It isn’t so scary.”

“I disagree.” It said softly. “Death – the End of Things, the Destruction of What Is – it is a terrible thing indeed.”

Harry stared at It for a long moment. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am the Builder.” It replied, spreading gnarled hands in the air. “I build all that is new; every universe, every world is my creation. I wish to converse with you, Master of Death.”

“Who am I?” asked Harry Potter. “Where do I go now?”

They looked at each other blankly, before the Builder smiled, a vicious parody of a smile, less expressive than a gouge carved out in a rock. “Patience is a virtue, little human.” It said, almost mockingly, if It was capable of feeling emotion, although Harry strongly suspected It was not. “There is no precedent for a Master of Death – death has merely been, in the same way darkness has always been. Death is nothing, death is the absence of life… and yet the absence too has a Master.

I cannot say what your domain is, Harry James Potter. You belong where death is, and yet death is ever where life abides. I offer you then, this proposition.

The universe you have left is one you can never return to; dead is dead, as the Bridgeburners once said, even for a… Higher Order of Being. However, there is another world of my creation, identical to yours, albeit with some small modifications.

I hope you are familiar with… video games.”

Harry sat quiet, (don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit) weighing the pros and cons in his mind. The Builder seemed unimpressed by his hesitance.

“This is your second chance to do it all over again, Harry Potter.” It said. “Take what you get. It may bring… closure.”

Harry opened his mouth (run, run, run, get away from here) and said. “Alright.”

The Builder smiled, and it was heartfelt this time. It was scary this time.

“What’s in it for you?” asked Harry. The Builder kept on smiling.

Chapter Text

Harry opened his eyes to the still-familiar walls of his cupboard, albeit augmented with some glowing green text and a faint piano and cello soundtrack.

Good Morning, ________.

Harry blinked. “My name is Harry.”

Confirm name as My Name Is Harry… Yes/No

Harry hesitantly swiped at the ‘No’ option, only to discover that his hand passed straight through it without affecting it in the slightest. “…No?” Said Harry tentatively. “Harry James Potter.”

Confirm name as Harry James Potter… Yes/No

He shrugged. “Yes.”

Welcome, Harry James Potter, to the Game. Please confirm your information and statistics.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter

Origin: Dursley’s

D.O.B: 31 July 1980

Gender: Male

Level: 7

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
1. ADVANTAGES:
1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
3. Gentleman: Be the very epitome of chivalry when it comes to the fairer sex, even to the point of foolishness. Temporary +5 to Reputation with the female in question when activated.
4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
2. DISADVANTAGES:
1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
3. Horcrux: Serve as a receptacle for a soul piece of the Dark Lord Voldemort a.k.a Tom Marvolo Riddle. -5 to Mana until Horcrux is removed.
4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.

1. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus seven.
1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take] : 6
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use] : 12
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging] : 12+5 = 17
4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people] : 5
5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through] : 11
6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn] : 8
7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake] : 8
8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity] : 8
9. Skill Points to be Allotted : 10
2. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.

You have no skills.

1. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.

1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort

Confirm Statistics… Yes/No

Harry blinked at the part regarding his skills. “Well, that’s good to know.” He muttered. “Firstly, there is no chance in heaven or hell I am keeping the Horcrux. Nope nope nope. Nope nope. Nope. Replace disadvantage ‘Horcrux.’”

Disadvantage ‘Horcrux’ converted to advantage ‘Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.’

Advantage ‘Gentleman’ converted to disadvantage ‘Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from kissing to fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails when activated.’

Harry groaned at the last part. “This is going to be fun already, I can tell.” He groused. “Add three points to HP, one point each to Intelligence, Strength and Vitality, and three points to Charisma; might as well get them all up a little.”

HP now at nine.

INT now at nine.

STR now at nine.

VIT now at nine.

CHR now at eight.

“Confirm Stats.”

Confirm Stats… Yes/No

Harry looked at his stats and felt unaccountably nervous. He had feeling things were going to go downhill very, very fast.

“Yes.”

Boy, was he glad he had that last skill point left over.

“Boy! Wake up!”

Ah yes, the pleasant, harpy-voice of his dear, dear Aunt. How he had missed it every morning. He opened his eyes, glad the rather tiresome task of reviewing his stats was over.

There were glowing lights in his vision.

He squinted at them blearily, watching them come into focus as he pulled on his glasses. There was an HP bar and a VIT bar at the bottom right corner. At the top right, there was a pause button, a button saying ‘Profile’ and a button saying ‘Quests’. A die occupied the top left corner.

Seriously, quests? What the bloody buggering fuck?

He swiped his hand at it, only for it to pass through the button ineffectually, slamming his fingers into the wall of his cupboard.

“Goddamnit!”

HP – 1.

Harry stared at it in sheer disbelief. “So basically…” he drawled to the air. “If I stub my fingers nine times, I die!?”

Hint – Yes.

Harry growled. He felt an intense urge to slay some foul and hideous beastling.

He slammed open his cupboard door, only to come face-to-face with his Aunt. Well, considering the height difference, it was really more face to breasts, but that was beside the point.

And of course, there was more floating text. Wherever would he be without all this lovely floating text?

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 30

Relationship: Aunt

Reputation: -1000

Attractiveness: 26

Mood: Angry, Impatient, Unhappy.

‘Lecherous’ activated.

“Good Morning, Aunt Petunia. You’re looking quite stunning today.”

New skill created: Flirting, Level 1, 10%.

She sneered at him – thankfully not like Snape; that would have been far too weird – and curtly turned around, walking briskly to the kitchen. Harry obediently followed her, unwillingly staring at her ass.

“You’re six years old now, boy – time for you to start earning your keep. Today onwards, you will be cooking the meals in this house. For breakfast, cook bacon, eggs and toast and serve it. After that you’ll get some more chores that need doing.”

Were those subtitles?

New Quest Obtained!

Cook the Dursley’s Breakfast.

Rewards: +1 skill point

    +20 XP

    New skill unlock – Cooking

Start Quest – Yes/No

Harry seriously considered just saying ‘no’ out of sheer spite… two-thirds of the Dursleys did need to lose weight after all.

‘Nice Guy’ activated.

Well maybe, he shouldn’t torture the Dursleys like that.

And just as he realized that it was the ‘Nice Guy’ that was making him do this, he said “Yes”.

Another lovely feature of the Game came into play, apparating him to the kitchen while softly playing piano rock music in the background. In front of him lay bread, eggs and a large side of ham. Each of the three had a small bubble over it.

Cook toast – easy. Cook eggs – easy. Cook ham – easy.

He sighed. Having to say everything aloud could get old fast. “Cook toast.”

New skill created: Cooking, Level 1, 0% - Caveman.

A toaster appeared in front of him with the bread in it.

Hint: Say Stop when bread is cooked.

A meter appeared on top of the toaster, and a bar slowly rose in the bottom, blue colored region. Above it was a much smaller green region, which Harry guessed meant cooked, and a large red meter, which most likely meant burnt.

The moment the bar reached the green region, it accelerated at a ludicrous pace, which meant the Harry’s ‘Stop!’ came well in the red region.

DEX check failed. Burnt toast created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +10% to skill ‘Cooking’.

Use burnt toast – Yes/No.

Might as well, although 1 HP was pretty negligible. But then again, when you only have nine health points, every little bit counts.

The blackened bread disappeared, and the scene reset to what he had seen when he had first apparated into the kitchen. The health bar filled up.

Sigh. “Cook toast.”

The bar rose, but this time Harry was prepared for it. “Stop!”

DEX check passed. Toast created. Restores 10 HP and 10 VIT. +20% to skill ‘Cooking’. +10 XP.

Now came the problem. He had no idea how much toast he was supposed to make. Knowing Vernon’s and Dudley’s eating habits, the answer was a lot, but then again, ‘a lot’ was not a very precise number.

He set about making toast.

His ‘Cooking’ skill had reached level 3 before making more toast gave him no more reward, at which point he realized that it was worthless to him and promptly dropped it like a hot potato – or a hot bread slice.

Snicker.

He had, according to his calculations, made 36 pieces of toast – one of which he had eaten – which was more than even Vernon and Dudley combined could consume in a single sitting. This had coincidentally given him 350 XP, bringing him to slightly above Level 11.

From there he moved on to eggs. The same system applied, only slightly quicker, and Harry praised his high dexterity without which this would have been impossible.

DEX check passed. Eggs created. Restores 12 HP and 12 VIT. +20% to skill ‘Cooking’. +10 XP.

Eggs stopped giving him any reward after his cooking reached level 6, and he promptly gave them the same treatment he had given toast.

In making 35 fried eggs, he had gotten another 350 XP, which brought him exactly to level 14. Joy.

DEX check passed. Bacon created. Restores 15 HP and 15 VIT. +20% to skill ‘Cooking’. +10 XP.

Bacon took him three more levels up to Cooking level 9. He made 35 pieces of bacon, which got him another 350 XP, which in turn brought him slightly past level 16.

This was probably why that weird dude who built universes had said ‘Patience is a Virtue’ in that insufferable tone – so that he could get heartily sick of cooking random foodstuffs in an effort to level up.

This would have been really weird for him if he hadn’t been told he was about to enter a game universe built by a madman.

WIS +1.

He finally returned to pay attention to the ‘Complete Quest’ message that had been buzzing ever since he made three pieces of bacon.

Complete Quest and Obtain Rewards – Yes/No

“Yes.”

Quest ‘Cook the Dursleys’ Breakfast’ complete. Reward: one skill point obtained. 20 XP obtained.

Game Saved.

“Boy!” Screeched his Aunt suddenly, the subtitles in front of his nose making him jump back. “Vernon and Dudley will come down soon. Serve the breakfast when it’s ready!”

New Quest Obtained!

Serve the Dursley’s Breakfast.

Rewards: +1 skill point

    +10 XP

    New skill unlock – Waiter

Start Quest – Yes/No

Harry sighed. The first day of his new life was not shaping up well. “Yes.” He picked up the toast and wandered into the dining room, absently checking the clock as he passed it.

Two seconds later he froze and turned back to the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he had started cooking breakfast, when he knew for a fact that he had spent more than hour in the kitchen. Hell, each piece of bacon alone was set to a timer of two minutes! He knew time dragged when you were doing something you disliked, but this was ridiculous.

Slowly, an evil grin that was extensively familiar to anyone who knew Lily Evans – or Harry Potter in the future – crept across his face. Oh, the possibilities.

He entered the dining room proper to see Vernon and Dudley seating themselves at the table. Once again, the glowing, floating text caught his attention.

Dudley Dursley – Level 10

Relationship: Cousin

Reputation: -100

Mood: Hungry, Mischievous.

Vernon Dursley – Level 29

Relationship: Uncle

Reputation: -500

Mood: Hungry.

Hey, look. He was almost at his Uncle’s level already. How difficult could this be?

It then occurred to Harry that perhaps he should not have sought to challenge Fate in such a blatant manner.

DEX check failed. Quest ‘Serve the Dursleys’ Breakfast’ sabotaged by Dudley.

What?

Then he walked into the outstretched leg of his cousin and tripped, smashing the plate and scattering toast everywhere. Dudley giggled, Vernon stared at the wasted food in shock and Aunt Petunia rose in rage at the shattering of her plate.

“Boy!” she screamed, and Harry scrambled backwards to avoid her slap, flinching when her hand swung a millimeter in front of his eyes.

DEX +1.

“How do I reverse this?” he cried desperately.

Hint – To return to last saved game, say ‘Load Game’.

“Load game! Load game! Load the fucki-!”

And just like that he was back in the kitchen with the music playing in the background.

“Boy!” Screeched his Aunt. “Vernon and Dudley will come down soon. Serve the breakfast when it’s ready!”

New Quest Obtained!

Serve the Dursley’s Breakfast.

Rewards: +1 skill point

    +10 XP

    New skill unlock – Waiter

Start Quest – Yes/No

Déjà vu.

He grabbed the toast and nearly ran to the dining table. If he was fast enough, he would make it there before Dudley, preventing his cousin from tripping him up and dropping everything.

Suck it, Dudders. He plonked the plate in the center of the table and moved back to the kitchen just as his uncle and Dudley entered the room.

New skill created: Waiter, Level 1, 20%. +10 XP.

It was only as he picked up the eggs that a thought hit him.

What was there to prevent Dudley from sabotaging him with the eggs?

There was nothing. And he did.

“Load game!”

No one who did not hate Harry had ever accused him of being stupid. This time, he put the toast in front of the seat where he knew Dudley was going to sit. He then placed the eggs in front of Aunt Petunia and the bacon in front of Uncle Vernon.

Dudley was sulking.

Quest ‘Serve the Dursleys’ Breakfast’ complete. Reward: one skill point obtained. 10 XP obtained.

Game Saved.

While the rest of his family ate – he, of course, would get his food later – he decided to review his stats.

“Show statistics.”

They appeared in the air in front of him, and Harry resisted the urge to move back a little; it really was far too close to his face.

“Okay… one point to Charisma.”

CHR now at 9.

“One point to HP, Charisma, Intelligence, Strength and Vitality.”

HP now at 10.

CHR now at 10.

INT now at 10.

STR now at 10.

VIT now at 10.

“Two points to HP, Charisma, Intelligence, Strength and Vitality.”

HP now at 12.

CHR now at 12.

INT now at 12.

STR now at 12.

VIT now at 12.

“Three points to HP, MP, Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, Strength and Vitality.”

HP now at 15.

MP now at 15.

CHR now at 15.

WIS now at 15.

INT now at 15.

STR now at 15.

VIT now at 15.

Confirm Stats – Yes/No.

He was now at the average of everything for his level, except his dexterity, which was higher. “Yes.”

Feeling your muscles grow in the span of a few seconds was, he decided, a very odd feeling.

He waited quietly in the corner until the Dursleys had finished their breakfast. Uncle Vernon dabbed at his chin thoughtfully. “You cooked this breakfast, boy?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

He nodded. “Good. About time you started earning your keep around this house.”

+10 reputation with Vernon Dursley.

Dudley was waddling off contentedly upstairs, no doubt to sleep off the small banquet he had just consumed. He let out a small burp as he walked and looked very pleased with himself, while Uncle Vernon chuckled, and Aunt Petunia beamed. “That was a good breakfast.” The boy said sleepily, although that statement should have been self-evident from the fact that despite the satisfaction of his voracious appetite, there was still food left over.

+20 reputation with Dudley Dursley

Harry’s uncle wandered around the living room, picking up his things for office. He paused besides his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m off, Tuney dear.” He gave a sidelong glance at Harry. “Better give the boy a list of chores to do around the house. Can’t have him sitting with nothing to do.”

Cooking and Waitering for the Dursleys has given you a new title – Chore Boy. +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.

He’d already halved Dudley’s dislike of him and put a dent in his Uncle Vernon’s, but damn Aunt Petunia really hated him.

Nice Guy activated.

He swore that one day he would make the Dursleys like him… that had, after all, been his dream as a child.

New Quest Obtained!

Make the Dursleys like you, ???

Rewards: +30 skill points

    +100 XP

    ???

Start Quest – Yes/No

He stared at the message, a grimly determined look on his thin face. “Yes.”

After he had eaten his own breakfast – two pieces of toast – his aunt had handed him a piece of paper with a list of chores to be completed before Uncle Vernon returned from work. Dudley, thankfully, had left for some or the other friend’s house.

New Quest Obtained!

Complete the list of chores.

Rewards: +5 skill points

    +20 XP

    ???

Start Quest – Yes/No

Lecherous activated.

“Anything for you, Aunt Petunia.”

Once again, she had sneered at him and marched into the house.

Lecherous failed. -20 reputation with Petunia Rose Evans née Dursley.

This had led to him weeding the garden with a tiny spade, pulling out the bigger weeds by hand.

New skill created: Gardening, Level 1, 20%. +10 XP.

Weeds, weeds, weeds. And the bar representing his Vitality was steadily diminishing all the while.

STR check passed. Weed removed. Gardening +5%. +10XP.

Gardening at level 3.

VIT = 0.

And just like that, his Vitality had finished, leaving him a level 3 gardener, and having gained 350 XP.

He crept back into the house, knowing that his aunt would be asleep. He hopped in through the French windows and took a single, silent step, but nearly screamed when a message appeared in front of him.

New skill created: Sneak, Level 1, 20% - Blunderer. +10 XP.

He stared at it, his heart still racing, before shaking his head and moving on. If this happened when he was facing some Death Eaters or Voldemort… he didn’t even want to know what would happen.

By the time, he had reached the fridge, Sneak had nearly reached level two. Going back, and he was halfway to level three. The purpose of the trip was fulfilled – he ate one fried egg and restored his Vitality to 15.

Back out in the garden, weeding refused to give any more rewards and besides, all the weeds seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, so he started trimming the rose bushes.

Gardening +5%. +10 XP.

Gardening at level 6.

VIT = 0.

God-fucking-damn, this was getting repetitive. Why was it always after 350 XP?

Once again, he sneaked to the fridge, ate an egg and came back, managing to level up Sneak to level 3, although it had stopped leveling up by the time he reached the fridge.

He looked at the next item on the list and sighed. Spread the fertilizer. At least he didn’t have to do it by hand.

He soon discovered a problem with the current task.

“Move! Dang nab it, move!” he screamed at the bag of fertilizer in the shed.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

+1 to STR.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

Several millennia later… the bag had still not moved, but he was out of Vitality. This time, Sneak gave him no more rewards.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

STR check failed. Bag did not move.

+1 to STR.

STR check passed. Bag moved.

Harry stared at the bag he was holding in disbelief, before hooting at the sky in pure joy. Of course, the hoot came out more like a very high-pitched warble, which took away from some of his manliness, but that did not matter because he had lifted the bag. Of fertilizer. And that realization could deflate a man – fine, currently tiny man – like nothing else.

Much grunting, shuffling and wheezing later, the bag was in the garden. Of course, by that time, his Vitality had reduced to 0, again, so he ate another egg.

Seriously, he needed to find a way to store food in his pockets or something.

Gardening +5%. +10 XP.

Gardening at level 9.

VIT = 0.

Quest ‘Complete the List of Chores’ complete. Reward: 5 skill points obtained. 20 XP obtained. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans.

Game Saved.

Harry looked up wearily, wiped the sweat from his eyes… and blinked. There was a middle-aged lady with a jumping exclamation mark above her head at the gate.

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

He approached the lady cautiously. “Hello?”

“Hello, young man! I saw the wonderful work you were doing on this garden and wanted to ask whether you would do the same for mine?”

Harry chewed his lip. “I’m not sure. You’d have to ask my Aunt.”

Enter the soft piano rock music.

Harry was now in a corner of the drawing room, while the lady gushed over the garden and Aunt Petunia merely looked vaguely proud.

He sighed. “Show statistics.” Obediently, they appeared.

“+3 to HP, MP, Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence and Vitality.”

HP at 18.

MP at 18.

CHR at 18.

WIS at 18.

INT at 18.

VIT at 18.

“+2 to HP, MP, Dexterity, Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence and Vitality.”

HP at 20.

MP at 20.

DEX at 15 + 5 = 20.

CHR at 20.

WIS at 20.

INT at 20.

VIT at 20.

Confirm stats – Yes/No.

Harry nodded, before remembering that it couldn’t see him. “Yes.” He was quite satisfied with the way things were going. He was already far above average for his level, which was probably far above average for his age… speaking of which, what was his age?

He nearly laughed incredulously. He didn’t know his own age!

“Harry?” His aunt’s voice interrupted his thoughts, not least because she actually called him by his name. Her face said that she didn’t like it either. “Go with Ms. Wilkinshire and do her garden as well.”

New Quest Obtained!

Do Ms. Wilkinshire’s garden.

Rewards: +5 skill points

+20 XP

???

Start Quest – Yes/No

“Yes.”

Really now, how bad could it be.

“None of that Ms. Wilkinshire nonsense. You, young man, may call me Angela.”

The question mark over her head turned into text of the kind that had floated over the Dursleys’.

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 32

Relationship: Acquaintance

Reputation: +20

Attractiveness: 18

Mood: Happy, Content.

Lecherous activated.

“Of course, Angela. And a fair lady such as yourself may call me Harry.”

She laughed, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Well, aren’t you a charming one!”

Flirting +20%. +5 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire. +10 XP.

They continued down the road in this way, her talking and laughing, him blatantly flirting. By the time they reached her house, ‘Flirting’ had hit level three and he had gained 140 XP.

Then he saw the garden.

“That’s... that’s a lot of brambles.”

Angela smiled sadly. “Yes. I used to love gardening, but when you get to be my age, you find that even things like pruning are a lot of work.”

Harry sighed. Might as well get started then.

+5% to Gardening. +10 XP.

Gardening at level 12.

Harry threw the bramble onto a large pile underneath a tree and moved onto the last tendril. He mechanically sheared one end and pulled it away using his glove-coated hand, which the Game identified as ‘hand armor’.

It was hard to say who was more surprised – him, or the raccoon he was suddenly face to face with.

Boss Battle!

Raccoon – Level 3

HP – 10/10.

The raccoon jumped at his ungloved hand and he instinctively moved it out of the way, swatting it with his gloved hand.

DEX check passed. Damage = 5.

The raccoon glared at him from its position on the grass and chittered angrily. When it pounced again, Harry was ready, moving his hand out of the way while swinging with his other hand.

DEX check failed.

The raccoon jumped out of the way and this time, managed to claw Harry’s arm just before Harry kicked it.

Your HP = 13/20.

Boss HP = 0/10.

Boss defeated!

+20 XP.

+1 skill point.

2 pounds loot bonus.

2 pounds put in inventory.

Quest ‘Do Ms. Wilkinshire’s Garden’ complete. Reward: 5 skill points obtained. 20 XP obtained. +20 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.

Game Saved.

Harry looked around wide-eyed. His two pounds! Also, the raccoon had disappeared?

“Inventory!” he called. What the fuck was the inventory?

A series of small boxes popped up in the air in front of Harry. The first contained two one-pound notes. The rest were empty, and he sighed in relief. Then he realized that he had no way of making to go away.

“Umm… go away? Enough? I’m done? Stop haunting me? Close?”

At ‘close’, the boxes faded away. Harry trudged into the house.

You are smelly and dirty. CHR temporarily -10.

“Oh good, Harry, you’re don – oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Angela cried, the last part coming out nearly frantic with worry. Harry nodded tiredly.

“There was this raccoon…” He tried to explain.

Angela stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before deciding it would be a better use of her time to fuss over him, applying antiseptic and a bandage to his hand.

+50 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.

Angela Wilkinshire is now a friend.

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. Go there and have a nice hot bath, but try and keep the bandage dry.” Angela said still holding his injured hand. “I’ll leave some clothes that should be about your size in the room opposite it – they’re my brother’s, but he doesn’t live here anymore.”

She kissed his forehead gently. “Thank you, Harry. I’m really sorry about the… raccoon.”

New skill created: Kissing, Level 1, 20%. +10XP.

X…X

Harry blinked at his grimy reflection in the mirror. He was covered with mud, leaves and fertilizer; no wonder she told him to wash up. He grinned wryly. “Well, don’t you look pretty.” He said to his reflection.

Flirting +20%. +10 XP.

No. Fucking. Way.

Harry spent the next five minutes finding different ways to flirt with his own reflection, before ‘Flirting’ hit a dead end at Level 6, 20%. He wasn’t sure why he could flirt with himself when he couldn’t flirt anymore with Angela – maybe it was something to do with different people.

He stared at his reflection, unsure of what else to do but game for anything that involved levelling up. He glanced over his skills in statistics and his eyes widened in realization.

Five minutes later, Harry was wiping down the mirror, and his ‘Kissing’ skill was at Level 3, 20%.

As he stood under the blissfully warm water, Harry decided to review his statistics… again. Had it even been an hour since he last did it?

“Show statistics.”

Back to the grind.

“+1 to HP, MP, Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, Strength and Vitality.”

“+3 to HP, MP, Dexterity, Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, Strength and Vitality.”

Confirm Statistics – Yes / No.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

In the room outside the bathroom, Harry stared at the clothes put out for him. Not they were hideous or anything. Far from it… they were in fact, a sensible pair of jeans with a light blue shirt.

There were, however, a few things about this that Harry found uncomfortable.

Thing the first: Angela had seen fit to also procure a set of underwear; boxers, to be precise.

For reasons that he could not explain, Harry found this intensely embarrassing.

Thing the second: The clothes, while sensible, were also several sizes too large for whatever aged child he was. Of course, he was used to this, having had to wear Dudley’s hand-me-down’s his entire life.

Thing the third: There was glowing text over the clothes that identified it as armor.

It was this text in particular that Harry was staring at. Clothes acted as armor. How the fuck would a pair of jeans reduce 5% of the damage taken? Did his normal clothes do the same thing? Would he take more damage if he was attacked in the shower?

Also, where were the clothes he was wearing earlier?

He slipped on the clothes, rolling up the sleeves and the legs and tucking in the shirt, which promptly fell past his knees. Looking down at himself, he had to admit that it looked much better than the hand-me-downs.

Armor equipped.

Basic clothing put in inventory.

Well, that answered one question at least. Looking around the room, he saw nothing that distinguished it from a standard room. It looked as if it had not been used for a month or so. There were no pictures on the wall, only a calendar.

Wait, a calendar.

The year on the calendar said 1986. So, assuming the calendar was correct, he was either five or six years old, depending upon how far along in the summer holidays it was. That would be easy enough to ascertain; all he had to do was pick up a newspaper.

Actually, he could just have done that anyway. Newspapers had the year written on them too. The Wisdom stat was probably useful for thinking of this kind of stuff.

“So, do you live with someone, or do you just keep that house up alone?”

They were walking back along the path now – Angela had insisted on escorting him back. She smiled, but he could see her heart really wasn’t in it.

“My brother used to live with me, but… but he had to move away.” She looked with interest at the gardens they were passing. “To be honest, it does get pretty lonely, especially since I was ever the best at socializing. I barely ever get out of the house.”

Nice Guy activated. WIS check failed.

Harry would have liked to say something to her that would comfort her, but he wasn’t sure what. They walked in silence.

When they reached back at Number 4, Angela stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and gave him a five-pound note.

“Keep it.” She said when he started to protest. “You worked hard enough for it.”

5 pounds put in inventory.

Doing Angela Wilkinshire’s garden has given you a new title – Whinging Gardener. +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.

The atmosphere in the Durley household was as warm and inviting as ever. Aunt Petunia directed him to the kitchen after his Flirting with her succeeded – in the sense that it raised his Reputation with her by one point. It was now at -999.

Rice and curry. The rice was labelled as ridiculously simple while the curry was labelled as Easy. Harry groaned. He did not want to do this all over again.

Worse, once again, the Dursleys had failed to specify exactly how much of what they wanted.

WIS check passed.

Wait, if he did that… there was a good chance the Dursleys would be mad, but he could simply come back and do it all over again. It was worth a try.

“Save Game.”

Game Saved.

The kitchen had a 4-in-1 gas stove as well as an induction stove. He put a pan on top of each, added a dribble of water and put in a single grain of rice.

[One Hour later]

“Stop.” He said wearily, and the bars stopped midway in the green meter.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +20% to Cooking. +10 XP.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +20% to Cooking. +10 XP.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +20% to Cooking. +10 XP.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +20% to Cooking. +10 XP.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT. +20% to Cooking. +10 XP.

Skill ‘Cooking’ now level 10.

He spooned out the five grains of cooked rice and put them on a plate. Then he did it again.

[Another Hour later]

“Stop.”

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT.

DEX check passed. Cooked rice created. Restores 5 HP and 5 VIT.

Wait, what! Why were there no rewards? He wanted the rewards!

He looked at the ten grains of rice on the plate that were the sum total of two hours of cooking. Not actual hours, apparently, since the time was different in the Game.

He moved onto the curry.

The curry levelled ‘Cooking’ up by 3 levels, but for some reason, only gave 1 XP per curry. Why was this happening? He had such dreams… such hopes… Now there was nothing left! Nothing!

WHYYY!!!

‘Waiter’ levelled up by one two levels; one per dish. And, of course, he was this close to levelling up but was unable to.

To his amazement, the Dursleys actually ate the ten grains of rice like it was a proper meal. His reputation with his uncle even went up by 5 points and with Dudley by 10 points. Just another reminder that this was, in fact, a fucking game.

He spent the rest of his time wandering the sordid streets of Little Whinging. Most of the people were fairly friendly to him, something which he attributed to the latest title which he had got. Being forced to garden for other people did seem to have some benefits.

Harry also saw some very interesting sights. The most interesting, by far, was a young woman showering, singing and dancing to her own voice who had forgotten to close her curtains. Oddly enough, she was still doing the same thing when Harry returned to Number Four several hours later.

Now that he thought about it, most of the people were continuously performing repetitive tasks. Some of them even kept repeating the same dialogues no matter what he said to them.

Maybe the Builder or whatever he called himself got bored and just decided ‘meh’.

By the time he was shoved back into his cupboard, Harry was intensely frustrated. Yes, he had gone up 21 levels in a single day, but not a single one of them had been after lunch. He was now at level 28. His uncle was at level 29.

He vaguely recalled thinking something along the lines of ‘how difficult can it be?’

It was Karma. That’s what it was. Karma.

And with that last, miserable thought, he fell asleep.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter

Origin: Dursley’s

D.O.B: 31 July 1980

Gender: Male

Level: 28 [+ 275 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1. ADVANTAGES:
      1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus seven.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take] :   24
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use] :   24
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging] : 19+5 =       24
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people] :   24
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through] :   24
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn] :    24
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake] :    24
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity] :     24
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    1
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 13 – 0% Caveman
   2. Flirting: Lvl 6 – 40%
   3. Waiter: Lvl 11 – 0%
   4. Gardening: Lvl 12 – 0%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 3 – 0% Blunderer
   6. Kissing: Lvl 3 – 20%
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.

Dudley Dursley – Level 10

Relationship: Cousin

Reputation: -40

Mood: ???

Vernon Dursley – Level 29

Relationship: Uncle

Reputation: -465

Mood: ???

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 30

Relationship: Aunt

Reputation: -999

Attractiveness: 26

Mood: ???

Chapter Text

Harry opened his eyes, expecting to find himself awake. Instead he looked upon a familiar and highly unwelcome face.

“You again!” he groaned. “Seriously, am I going to come here every night or something?”
The Builder inclined Its head. “It is good to see you again as well, Master of Death.” It said, not a hint of sarcasm in Its tone.

Harry stared at It. “What’s with the sudden formality?” he asked. “Last time we met, you might as well have been my best friend.”

The Builder kept an even expression. “Fear not, we will not be meeting every night. The only reason that we are meeting right now is that there have been some… let us call them balance changes, to the Game.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Hold on.” He said suspiciously. “Is that the reason that I didn’t get XP for the cooking I did at lunch time?”

The Builder nodded, unperturbed by Harry’s glare. “As the designer of this Game, I expected you to take some more time to try and understand the way this Game works, and to see all the various options available. However, I underestimated your proclivity to jump into situations headfirst without any information.”

Harry did his best to try and ignore the insult.

“The consequence of this was that you ascended the levels very quickly, especially when you accidentally stumbled upon how to… grind your XP. You are now at level 28, and 5 more XP will take you to the next level, which will make you the equivalent of a 44-year-old.”

Harry grinned proudly at the Builder, who disregarded the smile as if it did not even exist.

“As you may remember, level 29 is also the level that your Uncle is at. Seeing you reach your Uncle’s level so easily, I was concerned that there would be no challenge left in living the Game. As a result, I decided to alter the way the Game works.”

Harry gulped. He felt dread building up in his bones. Whatever was coming, he was not going to like it.

“Levelling up your skills will no longer give you any XP.”

Its words fell with the deep finality of Doomsday.

“You will not lose the progress that you have made, but the only method for you to gain XP now will be by completing quests.”

Harry had been right. He did not like it.

“There have also been some changes to the main screen. My advice to you is that you take the time out to try and understand what various controls are for. It will be to your benefit.”
It glared at Harry, and his protests died in his throat. (Run, his bones screamed, run like thunder.) “Any questions?” It asked carefully, and one got the impression that one was not supposed to have any questions.

Well, no one had ever accused Harry of picking up on subtle cues.

“What about the Master of Death situation in this universe?"
To his surprise, the Builder actually considered the question before answering. “A good point.” It admitted. “You are the Master of Death, so I suppose I should give you that title as well, even though I do not know what it will do. The Hallows in this universe will belong to you.”

It snapped its fingers. “Now… wake up.”

You have rested in your bed. HP, MP and VIT restored to full.

Mastering the Deathly Hallows in a previous lifetime in a different universe has given you a new title – Master of Death - ???

Harry stared at the messages in front of him. Both of them were unbelievably amazing for completely different reasons.
No matter how close he was to dying, he could simply go to sleep in a safe place and regain everything.
And he couldn’t wait to see how being the Master of Death affected the use of his Invisibility Cloak.

“Boy! Wake up!”

And the second day of living the Game had begun.

He made his way out of the cupboard, flirting with his aunt and increasing his reputation by one. He entered the kitchen ready for whatever grinding he had to do to increase the levels of his skills. Even if it didn’t increase his own level.

Damn the Builder.

Before he started his cooking, he did the one thing that really should have been the first thing he did the previous day – he looked at the symbols on his screen. The Builder was right. Everything had changed.
The HP, MP and Vitality bars were now three bars that lined the bottom of his vision. There was the rotating die at the top left corner and a drop-down bar saying ‘Home’ at the top right. Between the two was a single line of text.

Ver. 1.1.0 - Beta.

What the fuck did that mean?

Under normal conditions, Harry would not have been in the least stressed about a sentence made of random letters and numbers. These, however, were far from normal conditions. The Builder’s ominous words echoed in his mind as he stared at the single line of text. What if this was what would help him beat Voldemort, or if this was some information on doing something that he was supposed to understand? He needed to understand this.

Damn. The. Builder.

Moving on to the next thing, Harry said “Home”, and the world froze. The bar at the top right dropped down.

Profile. Quests. Inventory. Weapons and Armor. Companions. Settings. Report.

Was his the only life this weird, or was he the only one who bitched about it all day?

Harry sat down on the kitchen shelf and massaged his temple with his hands. He really was not doing very well. He had no idea what half the things meant and barely used the other half. By now, if he actually used his head, he could have been far, far ahead of where he was right now.
But he didn’t. Why?

He really hated introspection. It revealed uncomfortable truths about him that he did not want revealed.
Truths like the fact that he was treating this like a game.

Yes, this was a game, but it was also a universe. This universe had been built, yes, but so had his own and, if the Builder was to be believed, all the others. It was a complete universe with people who lived and breathed, people whom he had known.

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

Everyone was alive here, alive and well and not scarred by a war in which they should have had no part.
Fred was alive, George hadn’t lost an ear, Bill wasn’t part werewolf, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks…

Teddy hadn’t yet been born. He wasn’t a godfather – hell, Remus and Tonks hadn’t even met.
He wasn’t friends with Hermione or Ron, hadn’t searched with Luna for strange creatures in Hogwarts or wandered the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.

And Ginny… gods above, Ginny.

He opened his eyes, regarding his trembling hands without much surprise. He would have to start over with Ginny, back to the beginning when she was nothing more than a blushing fangirl.

How had he forgotten about Ginny? He had spent an entire day cooking and gardening and wandering around without thinking about Ginny, or any of his friends.
He had been foolish and childish, doing without thinking or planning, unconcerned with the future. He knew what was going to take place – he had a responsibility to prevent it.
Every single death from now on due to Voldemort was on his head; the blood was on his hands.

What had the Builder called it? Grinding. If that was what he had to do, so be it.

Whatever it takes.

Cooking sweetened oats had taken Harry up another three levels in Cooking, level 15 graduating him to fire starter, and increasing his reputation with Uncle Vernon and Dudley by 5 and 10 respectively. After he had eaten himself, he sat down in a corner with a notepad and a broken pencil and, for the first time in his life, made a plan.

The only problem that stood in his way was that he had no idea how to go about it. Hermione was better at this kind of stuff… but Hermione, here and now, was a six-year-old girl who had no idea about magic or war or anything beyond what her parents and teachers had taught her.

He made the first heading, noting as he wrote that his handwriting was still that of a child.

Objectives. These were, as far he was concerned, pretty obvious.

Stay alive.
Keep friends alive.
Defeat Voldemort.

It was the next part that was tricky. He scribbled down the heading. Steps. Basically, an idiot’s how-to guide for the objectives he had just listed.

Level up.
Gain skills.
Destroy Horcruxes.
Train.

He stared at the paper blankly, before adding Find out what Ver. 1.1.0 – Beta means.

Even the most optimistic and supportive of people would have admitted that it was not a very helpful piece of paper. A slightly severer critic – Severus Snape, for example – would have said something along the lines of it being a wasteful restatement of the obvious that any dunderheaded nitwit should have considered self-evident.

As far as Harry was concerned, it was perfect.

He did not, he had realized, need a plan. He was bad at plans. Plans were bad with him. It was best for the safety of both of them that they stayed far away from each other. No, what he needed was a list of goals to focus on, something he could look at and remind himself, ‘This is what I ought to be doing.’

He shoved both himself and the sheet – henceforth to be referred to as The Sheet – into the cupboard underneath the stairs, and engaged himself in exploring the different options present under Home.

Profile. A full-length picture of himself popped up, while alongside, the stats he had grown so used to seeing were displayed. It was nothing he was not aware of.

Quests. He only had three Quests pending; making the Dursleys like him and a new one which had just appeared – Completing the Sheet. They both would take time. The last was the list of chores he had received.

Inventory. The boxes appeared with seven pounds and a set of clothing in them. This option had potential. He could use it in any number of ways; to shoplift, to sneak items past security… could he put people in there?

Weapons and Armor. A list of available weapons appeared, which was currently empty. A list of equipped weapons appeared – also empty. The list of available armor, however, had two options – the clothes he was currently wearing and the old hand-me-downs. The one currently equipped was better, so he left it. Nothing he could change here.

Companions. He had no companions, nor did he know what companions were. Maybe something like familiars.

Settings. Options popped up – Subtitles, Music, Sound and so on – along with on / off switches. Harry left them all on.

Report. A dialogue box popper up addressed to ‘The Builder’. No bugs he wanted to report, so Harry sent a message asking for any more information about the Master of Death.

The rotating die at the corner was apparently something called ‘Luck’. The die had numbers on each side; -1, -2, -3, +4, +5 and +6. It could only be used once per hour and added the value that came up to the skill or stat that he was trying to use.
Very, very useful.

He was staring at The Sheet once again. The only thing he could really do now was train. Magical training, unless he found a way to the Wizarding World and a wand, was out. The only option left was physical and mental training.

It was in the process of this that Harry first learnt to appreciate titles. Thanks to his Whinging Gardener title, 5 gardens later it was noon and he had gained 15 levels in Gardening alone. This was, to him, absolutely useless. What was more useful was that he had gained 13 pounds out of it. Even better, in his opinion, was that he had gained 3 points to Strength.

For a six-year-old, he was ridiculously strong. He only hoped that the trend would continue.

Cooking lunch brought Cooking up by five levels as he learnt stir-fry vegetables. It was rather more exhausting than other cooking because he had to stir almost continuously. Thankfully, the vegetables were meant to last for both lunch and dinner.

Which led him back to where he was now. Staring at the Sheet. It was all very well to decide to do physical and mental training, but ‘how’ was the question that conked the raccoon. He could only gain strength by lifting bags of fertilizer and pushing lawn mowers for so long.

He flipped over The Sheet and started scribbling on the back of it.
Running. Weights. Find a gym? Study. Find a library? When does school start? Studying Muggle subjects basically useless. Learn more about games. Find a gaming store? Maybe ask them about the Ver. 1.1.0 – Beta thing?

He looked at The Sheet and nodded. Some of these he could accomplish. Running, maybe once in the morning and once in the evening at the park down the street. Was there any way for him to wake up earlier?

Until he found a gym, he could simply improvise with heavy metal parts lying in the shed. An exercise regime wouldn’t hurt either, maybe some push-ups, pull-ups, chin-ups and crunches.

He would have to find time one day to properly explore Little Whinging, maybe when Aunt Petunia was sleeping.
Running was an activity best left to cooler times of the day, possibly before cooking dinner. Right now, maybe he could find a library.

The library at Little Whinging was a near-deserted building with only one balding librarian who was – thankfully for Harry – fast asleep at the desk. Harry levelled up his Sneak skill by 3 levels just getting past her, although he failed multiple times. He was beginning to realize the usefulness of the Save and Load ability.

He was currently scanning the shelves for anything that looked vaguely like something he might possibly want later in life. He had already picked up three tomes of history describing the terrorist attacks that had mysteriously ended six years ago.

A book entitled Myths of the Middle Ages joined his pile. He had found through experience that they were pretty accurate as regards the Wizarding Society of the time.

He really wished he could use the Summoning Spell to collect all the books on a topic. Just one word – wait, what word?

Why couldn’t he remember the Summoning Charm? He could remember all the other spells he had learnt – wait, he couldn’t.

He could remember performing the spells, yes, but he could not remember how he performed the spells. The wand motions, the incantations were wiped from his memory cleanly.

The Builder had tampered with his mind.

Everything was too loud, too bright, too fast; the world was a mess of swirling colors and burning sounds. He was dimly aware that he had collapsed into his seat.

Ba-dup.

Why was breathing so hard? His chest hurt, the sound of his exhalations seemed to echo endlessly between the shelves. It was too hot (or too cold, it was hard to tell anymore), too closed, his clothes were choking him why couldn’t he breathe-

Ba-dup.

He had fallen onto the floor at some point, but he barely felt it; he felt detached from his body, as if everything that were happening to it was just something he was seeing rather than living. An all-consuming terror had gripped him, an utter certainty that something bad (something catastrophic) was about to happen and there was nothing he could do about it. He was breathing in pants now, desperately trying to get oxygen that didn’t seem to exist into his lungs.

The librarian snored on at her desk.

Ba-dup.

He opened his eyes slowly (when had he closed them?) and found himself looking up at the slate-grey ceiling of the library. He lay there for a few moments, catching his breath, before using the chair to pull himself to his feet.

His sweat-soaked clothes clung to his skin.

‘What the fuck was that?’ he wondered, relishing the feeling of the cool tabletop on his cheek. ‘Maybe a spell – did someone curse me? They shouldn’t have been able to, not as long as I’m living with Aunt Petunia. This never happened before. Have I changed something already? Maybe it’s one of the Builder’s new games.

He turned his eyes to the myriad of notifications that had popped up during his brief convalescence, hoping for some sort of hint, and reared back at the first one that appeared.

HP critically low.

‘2 HP! 2 HP? What on earth happened to me? No obvious wounds or lingering pains – maybe it’s mental. This could be bad. If it’s a curse, I can’t even remove until I turn eleven. Ohhh, this is bad.’

Resolving to deal with that particular knot of brambles later, Harry turned his attention to the other notifications he had received, only to run headfirst into the aforementioned knot at the very first message.

‘A panic attack.’

‘Huh.’

He had no idea what to do about a panic attack, nor did he have the slightest clue whom he go to about one (maybe he could ask Hermione), but he did know that he could never, at any cost, allow it to happen again. If he had one while fighting Voldemort or one of the Death Eaters, well…

No. Just no.

Fortunately, an easy way out presented itself to him. He had indisputably panicked because of the loss of memories from his past life, so the simplest solution would be to get those memories back, thus ensuring he would never have another panic attack.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

Breathing deeply, he tried to recall what other knowledge had disappeared from his head. He remembered his friends, and all the events that had taken place, just not things that he learnt in class.

How about Muggle primary school? He tried to recall what they had taught him in fifth grade and could remember nothing. Whether that meant his memory had been wiped or that he simply didn’t remember was unclear.

Pulling out The Sheet, he scribbled on the back with his pencil.

Memory wipe? Ask Builder.

At the rate he was going, Harry thought, he was going to need a diary.

He left his books on the table and kept walking among the shelves, looking for any more texts that could help him in the magical world. He was particularly hopeful about finding a book related to gaming; it might explain the Ver. 1.1.0 – Beta that was written on the top of the screen.

A Guided Course in Meditation had been picked up – in hopes of learning Occlumency – by the time he reached the adult section. Not exactly expecting to find anything inside, he shrugged and went ahead anyway. He might regret it if he did not.

As he thought, he passed several rows of steamy romance novels with semi-naked characters on the cover page, but nothing that he thought that he could use. It was as he was passing a row of books with titles such as ‘The Flirting Bible’ and ‘Girl Sex 101’ that he froze. His mind went to the Kissing and Flirting skills that he had achieved, as well as the woman who had been bathing with the window open.

The Game clearly had no problem introducing adult elements, which made sense since this was an entire universe and people did have to reproduce. It was not exactly the most productive of tasks but still, Harry reasoned, he had five years to level up enough to protect his friends.
Having avoided that particular guilt trip like a professional, Harry promptly picked up every book that claimed to describe flirting, kissing, sex or anything remotely related to them, and headed back to his table.

It was only after finishing the nine books that he had at his table that Harry looked up and noted that the sun was getting low. Unless he hurried, he wouldn’t be able to reach in time for dinner, and he didn’t even want to know what would happen if he was late. Still, the session in the library had been a productive one. +6 to Intelligence, 5 more levels to Flirting and two new skills called Pleasuring and Fucking – the Game was rather crude, especially considering that he was six – which were already at level 2, meant that Harry considered this session far more productive than the gardening.

But he still didn’t want to be late to dinner. With that thought in mind, he began to run.

Vitality and Dexterity had increased by one point by the time he reached Number 4, but he was still late. As his Aunt opened her mouth to start shrieking and Uncle glowered down at him, Harry managed to speak up before them.

“Load Game.”

And he was back at the Library, just after having placed the books back at their proper places. This time around, he didn’t sit around reviewing his statistics and planning for the next day, but simply ran straight back.

VIT +1
DEX +1

Hold up.

The increase in vitality and dexterity was in addition to the one he had already received from running home from the library once.

He reached on time, avoiding the loss of reputation with his relatives, but better than that, he had discovered how he could exercise – and train, and study, and do whatever the hell he wanted to – for long periods of time without worry.

There was, he decided, nothing better than the Save and Load feature.

After a dinner so scant that a bird would have been left pecking at the crumbs – but still enough to heal the lost HP – he went for a run. He had approximately ten minutes before Aunt Petunia would come down and shut him in his cupboard. Harry managed to extend those ten minutes to over half an hour by saving the game after each round of the park, and then loading the saved game. He had gained 4 points in Dexterity and 2 in Vitality before the Vitality bar finished.

He returned back exhausted, well aware that being dirty had reduced his Charisma by ten points but far too weary to care. He collapsed on the cot and fell asleep immediately.

You have rested in your bed. HP, MP and VIT restored to full.

The first thing Harry did the next day was take a shower, restoring his Charisma to normal… for him. Glancing at the Sheet, he sent a short message to the Builder asking for a meeting as soon as possible – he really did not think confronting it with the news of his memory wipe was something to be done via message.

And thus began the routine that Harry planned to rigorously maintain until his school began. He cooked breakfast and went for a run in the park until his Vitality was exhausted. He returned to Privet Drive and took a shower, before going out to do the lawns of various people, sometimes increasing his strength and giving him some money. He returned to Number Four, took another shower and cooked lunch and dinner together. Afterwards, he went wandering around Little Whinging looking for a gym or a gaming store. A gym would be more useful, but the gaming store was rather more important to him, which was why he repeated one hour five times a day using the Save and Load feature just to try and find a gaming store.

It was on the first day of doing this that he broke into a house.

As he was walking down Privet Drive, he passed the house of one Arabella Figg, who he knew had been placed there to keep an eye on him by Dumbledore. He stopped in front of the gate, staring up at it, before he vaulted over the fence and made his way to the house. A cat – or possibly a...
What was Crookshanks called again?

Harry felt a familiar panic building up in him as he isolated yet another memory that had been wiped. Pushing it down, he sought to discourage the… cat from winding itself between his ankles, to no avail. He was no cat herder.

Cautiously, he stepped into the house, using the Sneak skill to avoid detection. The cat faithfully accompanied him in.

Sneak failed due to tripwire detection ward.

A shuffling noise came from the top of the stairs and Harry saw Mrs. Figg descending.

Arabella Doreen Figg – Lvl 41

Relationship: Acquaintance

Reputation: +120

Attractiveness: 9

Mood: Confused, Happy

Harry was the first to speak. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Figg. You’re looking nice today.”

+20% to Flirting. +20 reputation with Arabella Doreen Figg.

Mrs. Figg smiled at him kindly. “Good afternoon, Harry. Not that I mind, but what are you doing here?”
He cast about wildly for an excuse that would seem reasonable. “I came here so that I could… return your cat! It seems to be following me around.”

CHR check passed.

Her gaze dropped to the feline that was sniffing Harry’s shin curiously, and she smiled again. “Yes, she does seem to have taken quite a shine to you already, doesn’t she? I’ll tell you what, you can keep her. I have far too many as it is.”

He took a gamble – low risk, low reward, but possibly a chance to regain some tiny, insignificant fraction of the memories that he had lost. He smiled winsomely at Mrs. Figg, a part of him still wary of her for being a spy of the Order of the Phoenix. “Mrs. Figg, could you tell me what breed it– she is?”

Another warm, annoying smile and she stroked the cat gently. “She’s a rare breed called a kneazle, Harry. A very smart breed and extremely loyal.” His face was blank except for a small, slightly retarded smile, but internally, his mind was partying with liquor and Jell-O.

‘Kneazle! She was a kneazle! Crookshanks was a kneazle! I can remember the word kneazle!’

Kneazle!

She smiled again – why the fuck was she smiling so much! – and ushered him out of the door. Harry blinked at the kneazle lying in his arms. “What the hell do I do with you?” he wondered aloud, and she butted her head against his chest.

Nice Guy activated.

Well, it wasn’t like anything of his was being lost. He wandered over to a house he had visited on the first day of the Game and knocked on the door. Its occupant emerged.

“Afternoon, Angela; as beautiful as ever, I see. May I come in?”

+20% to Flirting. +10 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.

The older woman’s cheeks had a dusting of pink as she stepped aside to allow him in, eyeing the furry bundle in his arms curiously. Harry himself was stunned. Yes, technically he had flirted with Mrs. Figg, but that had been comparatively mild. Then again, she had been just a 9 on Attractiveness. He didn’t have much contact with Aunt Petunia over the last two days either, being far too busy. But this time, when he flirted with Angela, it had been so much bolder… and yet she had still been receptive.

Things were changing already. Those books he had read had been a huge boost, and it seems he had not realized just how huge. They were pushing him, making him go further, always trying to get him to go just one step beyond what he was capable of.

“Is there any specific reason you’re here all of a sudden, Harry?” she asked when they were settled on the couch in her living room. He grinned mischievously at her.

“Can’t I just visit one of my newest friends once in a while?”

+1 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.

She smiled, perhaps glad to be considered a friend by a boy his age. “You’re welcome to drop by anytime you like, Harry.”
“Not to mention, of course,” he continued as if she had not spoken. “A pretty one as well.”

+20% to Flirting. +5 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.

The slight blush had returned again, and she laughed. “You’re too young for me, Harry dear.”

“I remembered what you said about not being the most social of people, so I brought you someone who might keep you company.” He held out the kneazle, which woke up and blinked at a surprised Angela. The kneazle sniffed her trembling hand cautiously, before jumping from his arms into her lap. It curled up and went back to sleep.

Angela’s eyes were shining as she gently stroked the kneazle behind the ears. She looked up from the feline, gently depositing her on the rug and turned to face Harry.

The next thing he knew, he was being hugged tightly. He froze up (let-me-go-have-to-escape-Voldemort-is-coming), struggling to free himself as bad memories resurfaced from his first time around in the war, before he got a hold of himself. She was thanking him, babbling nonsensically in his ear and kissing his cheeks till they were covered in lipstick.

+70 reputation with Angela Wilkinshire.
Kissing +20%.
Kissing +20%.
Kissing +20%.
Kissing +20%.

She drew back and started wiping her eyes with a tissue from a tissue box. This was fine by Harry, given as he was still somewhat in shock. He really must have underestimated just how lonely she was. He reached over for a tissue himself and started wiping lipstick off his cheeks.

“If that’s the kind of thanks I can expect for getting you a cat, I should take you to the zoo sometime.” He remarked. Angela laughed, her cheeks the same color as Harry’s, if for a different reason.

“I’d love to go to the zoo with you, Harry.” She said, smiling at him. “I haven’t been there in years. It’s just not the same without another person to go with, you know?”
His hand rested on top of hers, squeezing it lightly.

“I’ll be sure to make time.”

He completed the rest of the daily routine that he had set for himself. He went to the library and read books, using the Save and Load function to finish by around 6 o’clock. He had no fixed limit for how much he needed to study or learn, merely keeping at it until the very idea of lifting another book seemed distasteful. He returned to Privet Drive and did an exercise routine in the shed, lifting heavy machine parts and doing muscle building and definition exercises. Dinner, followed by running in the park until his vitality was exhausted, and then the third shower of the day.

He really wished he could take less fucking showers.

He jotted a rough schedule down on a small page and affixed it to The Sheet with a paperclip. It was now called The Sheets.

Breakfast. Run. Shower. Lawns. Shower. Lunch and Dinner. Wander. Meet Angela. Library. Shed. Dinner. Run. Shower.

Harry was, he swore, slowly going crazy. It had been two weeks since he had been visited by the Builder in his sleep, and he had been unable to find either gym or gaming store. If it turned out that Little Whinging did not, in fact, have either of them, he might just be forced to kill himself.
Currently, Harry was staring at the shop in front of him. Far from being a gym or a gaming store, it was a store offering guided tours of London and the suburbs for tourists.
He entered.

“Hello! How can I help you, sir?”

The woman at the desk might as well have been the very personification of the stereotypical dumb blonde – stupid as anything, but pretty and dressed provocatively enough to draw eyeballs. Harry unashamedly eyed her chest, given as how she was staring at a point about two feet above his head.

Then again, that probably wasn’t her fault. The Builder, Harry had noticed on several occasions, seemed to have left several of the characters in the game as simple-minded robots. The lady was probably built to stare at the average height of people.

Lecherous activated.

“I can think of a couple of ways, honey, but for now, can you tell me where the nearest gaming store and the nearest gym are?”
She smiled a blinding, bland smile. “Of course, sir! Here is a guide map to the city. It will direct you to all the places you need to find in London and the outlying areas!”

Item ‘Map’ placed in Inventory.

He removed it and attached it to the Sheets.

Gigolo Gaming.

Not exactly a name which would inspire confidence; unfortunately, it was also the only gaming store within walking distance, which was more than he could say of the nearest gym. He would have to trust to fate and luck to help him.

“Hello! How can I help you, sir?”
The girl behind the desk could have been the twin of the one at the Tourist Tour shop.
“I... own a game in which the hero has to live a life while completing quests and defeating bosses-”
“An RPG!” she interrupted cheerfully. He blinked.
“A what now?”
“A Role Playing Game!”

What the fuck was there in that to be so fucking happy about?

“Yeah, call it what you like. There is a line of text across the top of the… screen that says Ver. 1.1.0 – Beta. What does that mean?”

She smiled happily, obviously the victim of an overpowered cheering charm, before replying.
“Ver. Stands for Version.” She chirped. “Version 1.0 means that the basic game has remained the same. Version 1.1 means there has been one major change in game format since Version 1.0. Version 1.1.0 means that there have been no minor updates since Version 1.1 came out. Beta means the game has not been released to the public yet, and you are testing it for the creators to make sure it has no problems or bugs.”

That… made sense.

Wait, that was it? He had spent two weeks going mad looking for a meaning to those words because of the inane ramblings of the Builder, and that. Was. It?!
Once again, Harry felt a need to slay some foul and hideous beastling.

“Do you, by any chance, have a guide to playing RPGs?”
She smiled like making a sale had made it the best day of her life. “Of course. That will be 1 pound, please!”
Sighing, he handed over a pound, making his first purchase in this life.

Item ‘Guide’ placed in inventory.

He removed it and attached it to The Sheets.

Harry stood on the pavement, staring up at the Little Whinging Primary School. In the month that had followed his arriving in this universe, he had fought a boss battle with a wild dog, enabling him to gain one level, but had done little else. He had added the points he had received to HP, MP, Charisma and Wisdom, which he could not find out how to increase otherwise.

Oh, he had of course trained and studied and cooked and gardened and kept Angela company, but none of that had helped towards him levelling up. Quests were scarce in his corner of Little Whinging. The only positive thing that had taken place was that cooking for the Dursleys had increased his reputation with them enough to make Dudley actually like him now.

The best part of the day was sitting with Angela, talking and playing with Sansa, the kneazle, and occasionally going forth together for some cooking or gardening, sharing knowledge with each other. These were the only times he could level up those skills now.

He also now knew how the Game worked, in part due to the Guide he had purchased. Most skills could go up by 3 levels upon being used on a single person. Cooking one dish repeatedly could gain you no more than 3 levels to Cooking. Doing a garden could get 3 levels to Gardening. Flirting with a person could get you 3 levels to Flirting.

Of course, there were exceptions. Reading new books about a topic always levelled you up. Some dishes were difficult and got you 5 levels instead of 3. But these too finished, and Harry was left trying to find ways to level up his skills.

Deep within the recesses of the building, a bell rang and the gates to the school opened. Harry let himself be pushed in by the flood.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter
Origin: Dursley’s
D.O.B: 31 July 1980
Gender: Male
Level: 29 [+ 25 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
1. ADVANTAGES:
1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
2. DISADVANTAGES:
1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.

1. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7. Average level for any age is half that age plus 7.
1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   25
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   25
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 35+5 =       40
4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   25
5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   25
6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] :    49
7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    34
8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     38
9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    1

1. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
1. Cooking: Lvl 31 – 0% Cook
2. Flirting: Lvl 14 – 20%
3. Waiter: Lvl 25 – 0%
4. Gardening: Lvl 53 – 0% Grass Grower
5. Sneak: Lvl 9 – 10% Blunderer
6. Kissing: Lvl 4 – 0%
7. Pleasuring: Lvl 3 – 50%
8. Fucking: Lvl 3 – 50%

1. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
4. Master of Death: ???

Dudley Dursley – Level 10
Relationship: Cousin
Reputation: 30
Mood: ???

Vernon Dursley – Level 29
Relationship: Uncle
Reputation: -460
Mood: ???

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 30
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -1000
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 32
Relationship: Friend
Reputation: +280
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Arabella Doreen Figg – Lvl 41
Relationship: Acquaintance
Reputation: +140
Attractiveness: 9
Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 33 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.

Chapter Text

School classes had to be the ultimate way to increase your Intelligence. Paying attention to what the teacher was saying usually earned him two to three points to Intelligence per class, and since the teachers didn’t repeat classes, the Intelligence kept on increasing no matter what. Harry was seriously considering cutting the Library time out of his daily schedule.

In the school library, a slightly different situation had arisen. One day, as he had been sitting peaceably reading a book, a nervous kid had approached him. Then again, not really a kid, seeing as how they were of the same age.

“Hi.” He said, nearly whispering the words. “I’m Peter.”
He blinked. “Harry.”
Peter swallowed. “I was wondering if you would… you know… help me out a little bit.”

From how nervous he was, Peter was gay and wanted Harry’s help in solving a hard problem.

Then again, he was six, so maybe that wasn’t as likely.

“You seemed to be understanding everything that the teacher said in Math and… could you explain it to me?” Emboldened by having gotten the words out, Peter nodded rapidly in support of his own statement.
Harry, on the other hand, was nonplussed. The syllabus was by no stretch of imagination rocket science. That day they had started the number line, while Harry had nearly fallen asleep and had stayed awake merely to increase his Intelligence.

Nice Guy activated.

Harry sighed, pulled a notebook and pencil towards him and began to explain. As he talked, he became vaguely aware of more and more people crowding around him and listening. He became increasingly uncomfortable of being surrounded by people, especially behind him, where he couldn’t even see.

Stage Fright Activated.

Finally, when the impromptu lecture ended, he looked up to see what seemed to be his entire class listening to what he was saying with expressions of awe and – was that adoration! – on their faces.

Doing the teacher’s jobs for them has given you a new title – Professor. +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.

Great. Just fucking great.

He had reserved school break times for… socializing. All right, for walking among various groups in the playground and flirting with every girl or female staff member he could see. A few of the braver girls had even let him kiss them on the cheek, blushing terribly the entire time and giggling madly afterwards.

Harry had a foolproof, completely rational argument in store for himself to justify his misuse of the school recess. One of the methods to completing his objectives that he had written down on The Sheets was to level up his skills. Flirting with the girls was definitely doing wonders for his Flirting skill, especially when you took into consideration the Save and Load feature.

Besides, you never knew when a skill might come in handy.

He deserved this! He worked his arse off 36 hours a day training for a war that had yet to begin, and if he had his way, never would! No one could deny him one guilty pleasure for an hour a day, especially when it wasn’t hurting anyone!

Oh, just shut up.

Harry’s spectacle-clad eyes homed in on something at the far side of the playground where he had yet to reach. An exclamation mark hovered over the jostling crowd, and Harry immediately began elbowing his way towards it. It had been so long since he had gotten a mission – he needed something to boost his XP. If not, he might be forced to stay at Level 29 for the rest of his life.

He shuddered. Living forever at the level of the average 44-year-old was not the kindest of fates.

Closer, he could see that the exclamation mark was hanging over a solitary girl who was leaning against a tree. She was about a foot shorter than him, but then, this time around he was pretty tall – yes! – so she was probably in first grade along with him. Not that there was any class below his, but still.

The girl was standing alone and huddled up nervously on herself, glancing around nervously at the crowd. She had pale skin, thin lips and straight golden-brown hair that fell to her chin and was held together by hairpins. Her eyes were framed by round glasses that were extremely similar to the ones he wore.

“Hello.” He said when he reached her, and she jumped, although her gaze had darted to him several times as he approached. He extended a hand. “The name’s Potter, Harry Potter.”

She looked at his hand before slipping her own, smaller one into it. “Joanne.” She said, staring at the ground and shuffling her feet. “Joanne Rowling.”

For an instant, a shiver ran up his spine. ‘Some uncouth lout do be trampling all over my grave.’ The next second it was gone, and he resumed his perusal of his newest quest.

Joanne Rowling – Level 8
Relationship: Acquaintance
Reputation: +15
Attractiveness: 9
Mood: Nervous, Happy, Lonely

New Quest Obtained!
Become friends with Joanne Rowling
Rewards: +10 skill points
+50 XP
Start Quest – Yes/No

Nice Guy activated.

“Yes.” He stated firmly, and the message disappeared with a smug-sounding ‘ding!’.
“So, Joanne.” He said, as Lecherous activated. “That’s a pretty name.”

Joanne blushed.

Harry could not believe he had actually just said that. It was the cheesiest line in all of flirting history. Worse, it had actually worked, so he had an obligation to use it again from now on.

Even odder – if that were possible – was the way she had responded. A seven-year-old could conceivably be expected to recognize flirting, but only if hit over the head with it – Harry spoke, of course, from experience. Harry had found that the Flirting skill tended to completely ignore common sense when causing an effect in females, but Joanne could not possibly have enough hormones for it to work that way on her.

He wound an arm around her side, ignoring both her deepening blush and the near-constant messages of increasing reputation, and they settled down under the tree. After a while, she even began looking at his face instead of her own (apparently fascinating) shoes.

Over the course of a fifteen minute-long break, he learnt that Joanne had turned six on 31 July. When informed that he too had turned six on the same date, she had blushed – she blushed a lot – and his reputation with her had jumped up by 20 points. He also learnt that she loved to write, and had read a story written by her about a rabbit called, creatively enough, Rabbit, who had gotten measles. It was not the best story he had ever read, but as a six-year-old, it was better than anything he could have written, and proceeded to say so in no uncertain terms.

She had a younger sister, Dianne, who was four and apparently the biggest possible fan of her sister’s writing.

The reason she was alone on the edge of the playground was that other children regularly made fun of her, especially for her surname. Someone had come up with the nickname ‘Rowling Pin’ when she was four, and the label had stuck.

In many ways, she reminded him of a slightly less intelligent and more creative Hermione.

Personally, Harry was surprised that she was telling him, a complete and utter stranger, personal details about her life, but then, she was both lonely and six years old. There really was no reason for her not to trust him. Just because he was a scarred eighteen-year-old who jumped at loud noises and had nightmares about the death of everyone he cared about didn’t mean everybody was.

By the time the break was over, his reputation with her was at 300, the mission was complete, and she seemed unwilling to leave his side. It was only when he promised to meet her both after school and the next day that she finally moved, blushing and stuttering when he kissed her on the cheek.

He watched her leave with an amused eye. She really seemed to lack any sort of bodily coordination.

He added the points he had received to HP, MP, Charisma and Wisdom, because he had yet to find a way to consistently increase any of them. Glancing at his statistics critically, he was still of the opinion that these particular ones were far too low.

Two weeks later, three events took place that were, in truth, three of the few highlights he had of the entire year. Firstly, he discovered a method through which he could both spend time with Joanne and increase his Flirting skill… okay, act like a debauched playboy with every girl in the school. He spent the recess flirting, then used Save and Load to flirt some more… and then some more… and made sure that the last time he used Save and Load, he was with Joanne.

Secondly, he decided to give up his library time to do something more productive – spend time with his aunt. In more than a month he had, with great difficulty, managed to gain 10 reputation points with her. He had also, by repeatedly failing at flirting with her, lost those points almost immediately.

If he wanted to complete the quest of making the Dursley’s like him, then he needed to try harder. Much harder. To that end, he spent two hours following her around the house, opening doors, helping her pick up things, etcetera, etcetera.

It didn’t help.

The third, and perhaps the most satisfying one, was that he finally completed three levels of Flirting with both Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Figg. An accomplishment in and of itself.

Life in the Muggle world was fast becoming tedious. His schedule was set, but really the only fun things he could do were increase his reputation, flirt, and read adult books.

Gaining reputation with Joanne was extremely simple. It took him a mere month to gain the first 500 reputation with her, although that might have been helped along by the fact she really was very lonely – one of the worst things that could happen to a child. She had confided in him that she wanted to be a writer but was scared to tell anyone else because she was afraid they might laugh at her.

Gaining more reputation with her after that had become more difficult, but not impossibly so. A year later, and here he was, standing on the front door of her house for the first time. His reputation with her had recently hit a thousand, and he waited for something spectacular to happen – her swearing to be his slave for life, or perhaps become a Companion, whatever that was – but nothing did. She had seemed unaccountably nervous while inviting him over for dinner – she had not been nervous like that with him for a long time – but there were any number of things he could attribute that to. Meeting her parents, seeing her house… it could be anything, really.

He raised his hand and knocked. A moment later, the door was opened by a short-haired woman with a kind smile. She beamed when she saw him.

“You must be Harry!” she exclaimed, stepping aside to let him in. “Joanne has been so excited to see you.”

This statement was proven true a moment later when a blur flew into his arms. “Harry!” his friend squealed, and he laughed, hugging her back. He missed his friends from before, but he was glad he had Joanne. “It’s good to see you too, Jo.” He said, kissing her on the cheek. She dragged him to the sitting room, where two people, presumably her parents, sat and Dianne bounced excitably. The moment she saw him, the young girl ran to him. “Harry!” she shrieked, hugging him in a fashion similar to her sister. This was odd, as they had only met in passing once before. He took her hand and bowed over it. “It is my honor to meet you, Miss Dianne.” He said gravely. She giggled and hugged him again, while her parents tried to smother their laughs… unsuccessfully. Jo reclaimed control of him from her sister and dragged him to the couch.

“Mum, Dad, this is Harry. Harry, this is Mum and Dad.”

He shook their hands, glad that he was able to restrain himself from doing anything more than a few comments on Jo getting her looks from her mother. A quick, quiet discussion between the parents, and they announced that they would be adjourning to the table immediately, seeing as how it was already half past seven. There, over a truly excellent meal that Harry complimented Mrs. Rowling several times on, both of the adults peppered Harry with questions that he answered as honestly as he could. They were along the lines of what he did for fun, how his grades were in school… innocuous questions that any parent would ask a friend of their child.

Then came the tough one.

“What do your parents do, Harry?”

Mr. Rowling smiled as he asked that question. Harry swallowed.
“My parents died in a car crash when I was one year old.” He lied. “I live with my aunt and uncle now.”

CHR +1.

Seriously, was that what it took to increase his Charisma – he had to lie to people?
Meanwhile, Mr. Rowling’s smile faltered and died. “I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, in that awful sympathetic tone that made Harry feel like shit even though he hadn't done anything. “I should never have asked.” Harry smiled encouragingly, although it probably came out looking more like a grimace.
“Not your fault, sir.” He said. “You couldn’t have known.”

The rest of the meal passed in absolute silence. Harry helped in clearing up when it became clear that Jo had inherited her clumsiness from her mother, as Mrs. Rowling tripped over absolutely nothing, nearly smashing the stack of plates she carried.

He went home bored.

Three years later, Harry was invited very nervously to his first sleepover – in either life – at Jo’s house. He had met her parents and her sister regularly, to the point where they were all exceedingly fond of him. (Dianne seemed to look up to him as some kind of role model. That was… extremely unsettling.)

He reached their house at 8.30 with nothing but a pair of pyjamas and his toothbrush. A pouting Dianne was promptly put to bed while Harry and Jo were sent to her room to have fun with added warnings of “Don’t stay up too late!’

Once in Jo’s room, she went into the bathroom to change while Harry wandered around her room curiously. It had few photographs, but the walls were covered with quotes from what Harry guessed were Jo’s favorite authors.

She came out wearing a modest robe, and nervously approached Harry – the same nervousness she had exhibited when inviting Harry to her house. Harry sat beside her on the bed and waited for her to speak.

Instead, she kissed him on the lips.

When she pulled back, Harry said the first thing that came to mind. “Pause.”

He had spent large amounts of time flirting with girls and had, in fact, kissed a few of them on the lips. But – and herein lay the crux of the matter – he had not felt any real feelings for those girls. With Jo, however, he did feel a fondness, even if it was not love. And so, with it, rose guilt.

Was he cheating on Ginny?

He could not have said how long he sat there with the world frozen around him, turning this conundrum over and over in his mind. Till death do us part, said wedding vows (not that they were- had been married), and death had parted them all right, although they probably didn’t mean for the guy who died to be the one sleeping with other people.

Thing was, the Ginny of this world was not his Ginny. He could not expect Ginny to love him, or to be faithful to him, or even to like him. He was changing things with his knowledge of the future and he knew that if he had a choice where he could save someone’s life if he broke all ties with Ginny, he would take it in a heartbeat and never regret it.

Even he could not predict the future.

WIS check passed.

As he reached this decision, he decided he had pondered long enough. “Continue.” He said, and nothing changed. “Close?” he said, getting more desperate. “Un-pause? Resume?”

At resume, the world sprung back to life, and he Jo looked at him nervously. He smiled and, carefully removing her glasses, kissed her gently, his arms wrapped around her waist. They slowly progressed to full on snogging, his tongue exploring her mouth as she made delightful noises into his. When they disengaged for air, Jo slowly pulled back and stood up. Meeting Harry’s eyes, she removed her robe.

This was out of any experience Harry had ever had. Sure, he had read books about it, but he and Ginny had never progressed this far, had never progressed far enough that he was sitting in her bedroom as she stood naked in front of him. Definitely not as a prepubescent.

One day Harry Potter would look back to this moment and think, 'I should have seen it then.'

I should have seen it then.

On this day, however, he let any such thoughts be chased out of his head by the sight of the naked body in front of him.

Later – oh, many years later – he would come to regret that.

Hidden Quest ‘Get Laid’ complete. Bonus Hidden Quest ‘Get Laid before Going to Hogwarts’ complete.

Reward: 5 skill points obtained. 70 XP obtained. Bonus reward: 50 XP obtained.

Game Saved.

Level up.

Harry joined Jo in the recess, casually flirting with some girls along the way, as had become his habit. A vice, perhaps, but everyone was the happier for it. He hugged his friend (and more) tightly.

“Well, Jo?” he asked as they settled underneath the tree. “Were you satisfied with our sleepover?”

Her head at that moment resembled a giant tomato with hair. “I can’t believe you- you did that!” she whispered, making vague demonstrative hand motions in the air. Harry grinned unrepentantly.
“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.” He remarked casually. He could practically feel the heat radiating off her cheeks at that point. “Didn’t the books you weren’t supposed to read but read anyway tell you about this?”

“…I never really believed them.” She confessed. “It sounded gross so I assumed they meant something else, or – I don’t know.” She looked at the ground and dug the toe of her shoe into it. “It was good though. Really good.” The digging grew more pronounced. “Thank you, Harry.”

That evening, he told Jo almost everything. He told her about magic, he told her about Hogwarts, he told her about the War that was to come. He still held back, however, from telling her that he had already lived through it, or about the Game, or about the Master of Death (these were things not meant for mortals to know; works of destiny wrought by gods and heroes).

She was equally devastated by the facts that Harry would be leaving her to go to Hogwarts and that she could not learn magic. She cheered up when she learnt that she could still make Potions and Runic Arrays.

Ensconced in the smallest bedroom of the house, which he had received as an eighth birthday gift from his Uncle at Dudley’s insistence, Harry James Potter was wrestling with a problem that brought a frown to his face. For four years, he had been trying to contact the Builder through the Error Reporting System in the Game but had received no response. His frustration was mounting.

A thought had occurred to him the previous day; that the Builder had originally met with him in a room called the Meeting Room, which was meant for Higher Entities. Since he, too, was technically a Higher Entity, he too should be able to call up this room and summon other entities at will.

Now if only he had any idea how.

For now, he was focusing on the mainstay of all magic –  intent. He concentrated on how badly he wanted to meet the Builder, how badly he needed to meet the Builder. He could feel his magic rising in him, as he had felt several times before, and he concentrated harder.

The feeling of magic saturating his body was indescribable. One moment, he was lying on his bed; the next (drums, oh a distant drum, faint but ever-steady) he was part of the universe, one with the ebb and flow of magic, the next he was in the Waiting Room with the Builder in front of him.

He felt a shiver run through him that seemed to be a part of his bones, and for a fleeting fraction of an instant, he could have sworn he saw a similar fear flash across the Builder’s face. Shrugging it off, he smiled coldly.

“Good morning.” He said, his words dripping with sarcasm. It was unaffected.

“Good morning.” It intoned. “Why have you summoned me here?”

His eye twitched, as it always seemed to do when conversing with the Builder. “I have summoned thee here because thine Error Reporting System was not working.” He snapped snarkily, before forcing himself to remain calm. “There are a few issues I wish to discuss with you.”

It folded its gnarled hands. “You have my attention.”

Harry withdrew The Sheets and consulted his list - not that he needed to, but his hands had curled into white-knuckled fists and attacking a deity was probably not healthy. “The first was the issue of the Error Reporting. It doesn’t seem to be working, since you didn’t reply to any of my messages.

The second was the fact that you took my memories."

He waited expectantly, breath nearly ragged in anger, and the Builder picked up on the silent cue. “I will seek to resolve the issue of Error Reporting as soon as possible.” It said. “I was forced to take your memories otherwise there would be no challenge left in the Game. The Game is meant to be a universe for people, and people will not be born with an instinctive knowledge of how to cast spells.”

This reminded Harry of the thought that had occurred to him. It made no difference if a player was over-levelled as long as everyone was or could be over-levelled. So why had the Builder prevented him from gaining too many levels?

Instincts bred in a desperate, war-torn childhood stayed his tongue. He eyed It for a moment, before swallowing his anger and moving on.

“And the Master of Death issue?”

Harry awoke to a sense of expectation hanging in the air - the very atmosphere around seemed heavy. The reason was obvious to anyone who knew about the Magical World. The week before a wizard’s eleventh birthday was a very important week.
As he sat at the table to eat with the rest of the Dursleys, his mind wandered to the progress he had achieved in the five years he had been playing the Game. Two of the three Dursleys now actually liked him. His reputation with Angela was at over 800.

Alright, so that was perhaps not the dictionary definition of productive, but he had worked on his skills and statistics as well. The biggest shock had been when upon reaching Level 100, a sub-skill called Herbology had appeared under the Gardening skill. The same occurred with Cooking, with a sub-skill called Potioneering.

His stats, of course, were as good as he could make them, although HP, MP and Wisdom lagged behind the others. He had spent weeks walking up to random people and feeding them increasingly outrageous bullshit to increase his charisma, until now, when he finally felt he was ready for Hogwarts.

“Get the post, Harry.” Said Uncle Vernon gruffly.

He got up and headed for the door.

Chapter Text

Harry bent down and picked up the letters lying in the postbox, casually rifling through them. The green calligraphy of the Hogwarts letter stared at him.

Mr. H Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Yep, that was him. 

Another annoying ‘ding’ alerted him to the quest that had appeared. 

New Quest Obtained!

Hide the Hogwarts Letter from the Dursleys and Reply to it.

Rewards: +10 skill points

    +50 XP

Start Quest – Yes/No

“Yes.” He sighed wearily. This scuppered his plans of showing the letter to his Uncle as an invitation to a school which his parents had paid for, all the while emphasizing how he wouldn’t be around to trouble Aunt Petunia anymore. 

Shrugging, he opened Inventory and tried to shove the letter into one of the boxes. With the same, annoying ‘ding’, another message popped up.

Item ‘Hogwarts Letter’ cannot be placed in Inventory.

Of course it couldn’t. Harry was shocked that there were any limits to the Inventory function at all. There was no size or weight limit as far as he could tell, although he had yet to test it on living beings. An unfortunate result of this was that he had never noticed until now that the pockets of his clothes were tiny.

A little quick thinking, and he tucked it into the waistband of his trousers, pulling his shirt over it. Satisfied with the positioning, he walked back into the house. As he entered the hallway, a thought struck him.

WIS check passed.

“Save Game.”

He handed over the bills to Uncle Vernon and went back to his seat at the foot of the table, noting that his Aunt seemed particularly twitchy as he passed her. Just as he was sitting down, the Letter crinkled loudly, and he only barely prevented himself from freezing up. He stared at his plate, trying to convince the world in general that nothing had happened.

No such luck. “What was that?” his Aunt asked sharply. He grinned nervously. 

“Nothing, Aunt Petunia.”

CHR check failed.

Bloody fucking perfect. Before he had quite comprehended the meaning of this, a long-nailed hand was dragging him from his seat. Again, before he could move, she located the letter and, shoving a hand under his shirt, whipped it out into the open.

A single look at the text and she emitted a wordless scream of fury, before slapping him across the face, her nails raking across his skin and drawing blood.

HP -1

“You worthless freak!” she shouted. “You should be glad we keep you under this roof… instead you go about trying to get into- into freakish schools for people like you!” She aimed a kick at him but he had come to his senses by this point and rolled out of the way. “Just like my bitch of a sister!” she continued in her tirade, just as Vernon reached her to try and calm her down. 

Running Rashly activated.

“Your bitch of a-” he began angrily, before catching himself and shaking his head. “Load game.” He said clearly, knowing that if he mumbled, the Game might not register it.

A bout of the creepy piano music saw him back in the doorway with the letter tucked into his waistband. He removed it and tucked it into his shoe, under the sole of his foot. He walked back to the dining room again, careful not to put too much weight on that foot.

Boy!” his aunt barked, just as he reached his chair, and he jumped. Unfortunately, he jumped evenly on both feet. His aunt rose from her seat, eyes narrowed.

“Load Game.”

Harry was pretty sure that the Cupboard under the Stairs – his former home – wasn’t visible from the dining room. He stopped at the base of the stairs and slipped the letter into the memory-filled darkness. As he was closing it, however, the door creaked loudly, following the law that the quieter you are trying to be, the louder the sounds made by everything will be.

Aunt Petunia was upon him in a flash. “What were you doing there, boy?”

“Load game.”

Harry stood in the doorway, uncertain of what he could do. So far, he had acted on instinct, just trying to get the letter past Aunt Petunia. The obvious solution was to hide the letter in a place and retrieve it later, as he had tried on the last attempt. All he really needed to do was hide the letter somewhere that no one would recognize it, or someplace no one would ever think to look.

INT check passed.

He was an idiot. Running back outside, he shoved the Hogwarts letter back into the letter box and came back inside with the letters for his Uncle. Aunt Petunia watched him suspiciously the entire while, but this time there was no telltale crinkle to give him away. Breakfast completed, his Uncle headed off to work while Dudley waddled back to his room to play some early-morning video games. 

A few minutes later, he headed out with the excuse of doing other people’s gardens. On the way out, he looked back to make sure Aunt Petunia wasn’t peering at him through the French windows. There was no sign of her, and he quickly retrieved the letter from its hiding place.

He knocked on the door of his destination and the older woman opened the door. “Harry!” exclaimed Mrs. Rowling. “You’re early. Come in, Jo and Di will be delighted to see you.”

He let her usher him in, the letter safely tucked under his waistband, and waited amusedly as she called her daughters down. Two brown-colored blurs were faintly visibly on the stairs before he found his arms filled with two girls, both looking at him adoringly. Jo, of course, insisted she was in love with him. Di – short for Dianne – on the other hand, had a perfectly normal school-girl crush on him, somewhat similar to what Ginny used to have – would have? Did have?

It made him nostalgic.

Used to would have?

He gave each of the girls a kiss on the cheek – their mother, surprisingly, either did not see or did not care about the ridiculously close and quite couple-like relationship he had with her elder daughter. Personally, he suspected the former, simply because on several previous occasions, it had seemed like Anne was not all there. He had researched dementia for a while, before deciding that she was just strange.

Harry noted that both of his friends were barefoot and in identical sleeping robes. It seemed he had arrived a bit too early.

“I’m sorry, Anne; did I come before they had breakfast?” he asked, turning to the smiling woman, who nodded in affirmative. 

“I was just about despairing of getting them out of bed, and then you arrived and suddenly, they’re flying out of their rooms.” Her smile grew broader. “I’m sorry girls, you can’t play with Harry until you’ve had breakfast.”

The girls in question immediately turned puppy-dog eyes on their mother. “Please, mum?” they begged. “We can eat breakfast while playing with Harry.”

She alternated gazes between her children and a noncommittal Harry. “Alright.” She said eventually, and immediately got hugged by two cheering children. “But you have to finish your breakfast and then brush your teeth, and I want you changed by the time you come down.” She sighed. “Harry, you’re the responsible one here. Can you make sure they do all of that?”

Two minutes later, they were in Joanne’s room, the girls clutching bowls full of cereal. Jo was seated on Harry’s lap, who was seated on a chair, while Di was on a rug near the wall. Both the hosts were scarfing down their food as fast as they could, until Harry stopped them out of a justified fear that they would choke. 

“Slow down, you two.” He reprimanded, unknowingly sounding his actual age. “Chew your food, and don’t take a bite until you’ve swallowed.” The girls pouted simultaneously, which made Harry laugh, but complied.

Jo finished first and contentedly leaned back, snuggling into Harry. He let his hand creep down, enjoying the way her contented breathing, before pinching her bottom sharply. She jumped up with a squeal and glared at Harry. 

“Go brush your teeth.” He said, unaffected by the fact that if looks could kill, he would be dead… again.

She sulkily went to the bathroom, rubbing her offended posterior in an exaggerated manner, while her younger sister headed to her own bathroom. They spent the next hour talking and laughing, with Harry telling fantastical tales of adventure – not so fantastical, perhaps, when you considered the fact that they were based on his life. It was only an absent-minded glance at the clock that reminded Harry of this, and he reluctantly wrapped up the tale of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

“Time to change, kiddos.” He said, picking Jo up and dumping her unceremoniously on the floor. 

The reason became clear when, after Dianne’s exit from the room, he pulled a letter out from under his shirt. She stared at it with a dread fascination usually reserved for roadkill victims.

“My Hogwarts letter arrived today.” 

She already knew what it was. It had been preying on her mind ever since his tenth birthday, but it still needed to be said. For the first time in his life, he felt vaguely reluctant to go to Hogwarts. This, perhaps, was how other students felt when leaving for the magical school.

“Don’t worry.” He said softly. “I’ll be here in the Christmas Break, and Easter, and of course the Summer Holidays, and since I’m a much better teacher than the incompetents they have over there, I’ll teach you everything they teach me in that much time.”

She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. She had felt no need to make any friends other than Harry, despite his warnings, and she was likely going to be terribly lonely during the time he was at Hogwarts. He could see that her mind was still on the prospect of his leaving.

He hugged her and kissed her softly, wishing she could come with him.

The response he had sent to the Hogwarts letter had included a request to send a representative who would talk things over and explain about Magic to his family. They did send a representative, just not the one he was expecting. 

He opened the door on July 31, expecting to see the mountainous figure of Hagrid, his first friend in the Wizarding World. Instead, he found a middle – aged man with sandy hair whom he remembered vaguely from his early years at Hogwarts standing on the front porch.

“Hello.” He said, smiling. “My name is Professor Rupert Grint, and I am from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May I come in?”

  Rupert Grint – Level 53

Relationship: Professor

Reputation: +150

Mood: Surprised, Pleasant.

Harry blinked. “Umm… of course Professor, come on inside.” He said as he stepped aside, his mind racing to try and find out why this had changed already. None of the repercussions of his actions should have reached Hogwarts… except his response to the letter… and anything reported by Mrs. Figg.

Of course. Mrs. Figg.

As expected, Aunt Petunia, being the only one at home, had not taken the news of his impending admission to Hogwarts kindly. There had been a good deal of screaming and several vases broken. She had frozen and calmed down only when Professor Grint – whom he now recognized as the Muggle Studies professor before Professor Burbage – had drawn his wand, although Harry suspected it was more out of a possible need to defend himself than anything else. Her skin had turned an unpleasant shade of greenish-white as she stared at the innocuous instrument he was holding casually by his side.

Now, the two of them were walking on the street that housed the Leaky Cauldron, having Apparated into a convenient cul-de-sac that existed solely for the use of people wishing to Apparate to the street that housed the Leaky Cauldron.

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry said out of nowhere as they approached their destination. At the older man’s questioning look, he clarified. “For what you did back at home.”

A shrug was his only response. I don’t know what you’re talking about, said the shrug. Harry said nothing further, and they kept moving onwards.

Professor Grint pulled Harry aside before they reached the pub to speak to him sotto voce.

“Harry, this is the Leaky Cauldron, main entrance to the Wizarding World in Britain. Muggles – that’s non-magical people – can’t see it. It’s run by Tom the Barman.”

Harry eyed the Professor curiously. His voice had taken on a strange quality, like a man reciting a familiar poem to a captive audience.

“Harry, this is advice for when you are older and have passed out of Hogwarts – do not raise your wand against someone while inside Tom’s domain. Britain has had many Dark Lords over the course of history. Some of them have dared to attack Tom’s bar – they were the ones who never attacked anything again. 

Magical Britain and Muggle Britain are nearly separate entities, with separate laws and only one common leader – the Queen. But Tom’s bar belongs to neither Magical nor Muggle Britain. It is its own country, with its own laws and its own leader, and that leader is Tom.

No one knows who Old Tom is, nor how he kept his piece of land separate from every country in the world. He was there, keeping the bar when I first came to Hogwarts, and he was there when Headmaster Dumbledore first came to Hogwarts nearly a hundred years ago, and he was there when Madame Marchbanks came to Hogwarts in the early 1800’s – and he was older than old then, as he is old now. Tom Bombadil, he calls himself, and he lives above his bar with his wife Goldberry. He has other names as well – Forn, and Orald, his wife calls him, and Moss-Gatherer, Oldest and Fatherless. None has ever seen him emerge from his bar, but inside his bar none has ever mastered him.

Do not be afraid! Old Tom is the kindly sort, and he will help you in times of trouble. But remember always in the magical world that not all things are as they seem.”

Any impatience Harry may have felt was wiped away by that speech, and he stood there gaping. He remembered Tom from the time when he blew up his Aunt Marge – a jolly fellow and always laughing, bustling around his bar with a curious dance-like gait and given to bursting into song as he worked, seemingly content with his life. He had not even known that the old man was married, but to learn this about him was shocking. He hesitantly followed Professor Grint into the bar, nervously saving the Game as he entered. Maybe Tom was the Builder in disguise? 

It was not outside the realms of possibility.

Just as he was about to pass through the doorway, a message appeared.

New Quest Obtained!

Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.

Rewards: +100 skill points

    +500 XP

Start Quest – Yes/No

Holy Mother of Merlin, that was a lot of skill points. Rapidly agreeing to the quest, he looked at Tom – not just looked, but actually looked at Tom.

At first glance, he was exactly as Harry remembered; an old man with a wrinkled and ruddy face, bright blue eyes, and a bristling brown beard. He was short for a fully-grown man, maybe five feet in height. He was clothed in a bright blue jacket and yellow leather boots, yet on him they looked natural and fitting, as if his being clothed in anything else was absurd.

It was as Harry watched him move that he noticed the difference between him and other men. When he moved, it was quickly and suddenly, like a squirrel in the woods, yet there was a sense of immeasurable age and agelessness, like watching an ancient creature ponder its next movement.

So caught up in his self-appointed task of watching Tom was Harry that he failed to notice till then something that should have struck him the moment he entered the bar. But he had noticed it now – beat him over the head with a nine-iron for long enough and it seemed that even he would see it eventually.

Well, wasn’t that a shock.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter

Origin: Dursley’s

D.O.B: 31 July 1980

Gender: Male

Level: 30 [+ 105 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
1. ADVANTAGES:
1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
2. DISADVANTAGES:
1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.

1. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7. 
1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   35
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   35
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 57+5 =       62
4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   58
5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   35
6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] :    71
7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    60
8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     55
9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    1
2. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%

Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.

1. Potioneering: Level 1 – 0%
1. Flirting: Lvl 100 

Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.

1. Waiter: Lvl 100 

Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.

1. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%

Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!

1. Herbology: Level 1 – 0%
1. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
2. Kissing: Lvl 100

You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.

1. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
2. Fucking: Lvl 25 – 30%
1. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you. 
1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities to the Waiting Room, ???
5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you. 

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35

Relationship: Aunt

Reputation: -205

Attractiveness: 26

Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36

Relationship: Best Friend

Reputation: +870

Attractiveness: 18

Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15

Relationship: Lover

Reputation: +1000

Attractiveness: 16

Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 380 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.

Quests

1. Make the Dursleys like you, ???
   Rewards: +30 skill points
   +100 XP
   ???

1. Complete The Sheets
   Rewards: +20 skill points
   + 800 XP

1. Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.
   Rewards: +100 skill points
   +500 XP

Chapter Text

Hop along, my fine friends, up the Charing Street!
Tom's going on ahead bright and beamish to meet.

Harry stared about himself, dumbfounded. The Leaky Cauldron was not particularly busy, but there were still a dozen patrons sitting and talking quietly. Most of these were of the rather two-dimensional variety – constantly repeating a single activity and always saying the same thing – but Grint and Tom were both three-dimensional. You could see it in the way they held themselves and, in their eyes, in the flicker of interest that occasionally came across them.

Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,

He spun around rapidly, trying to find out what could possibly be different about the Leaky Cauldron. Perhaps this was due to the fact that he was entering the Magical World – or, rather more likely, it was something to do with Old Tom. It boggled his mind that the merry old barman was an ancient being who ended Dark Lords on a regular basis – had he been so on his original universe too, or was this another one of the Builder’s tricks?

Looking around himself, Harry was inclined to think not. He could find no other explanation for the fact that there was no floating text over anyone’s head.

Living the Game for five years had given Harry a fair idea of how it worked. The text over a person’s head was shown as grey question marks until he learnt that person’s first and last name. At that point, the question marks promptly changed into the floating text that displayed basic information about them, largely things that he could not ever imagine caring about.

There was no such thing here. There was no text over anyone’s head. No text, no question marks, nothing. Not over any of the patrons’ heads, not over Old Tom’s, and not even over Professor Grint’s, whose text he knew for a fact had been visible outside of the bar.

Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!

He approached the barman, his mind still spinning from all the possibilities. It seemed highly likely that Old Tom was a Higher Being, like him. If so, the man might teach him more about what it meant to be the Master of Death – the Builder had been singularly unhelpful on that account. But then again, there was no guarantee that all Higher Order Beings – HOBs? – liked each other. If Tom turned out to be hostile, he could probably end Harry without a second thought.

Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! Merry dol! We'll be waiting for you!

He stepped alongside the Muggle Studies Professor in front of the barman, and Tom stopped his soft singing to turn and look at him.
“My word.” He whispered. His blue eyes were piercing in a way Dumbledore could only dream of matching, and Harry realized in that instant that deity or not, Old Tom Bombadil was possibly the most dangerous person he would ever meet, and that messing with him would be the very absolutely last thing he did in his second life.

“It can’t be… Harry Potter?”

Somehow, that single whispered phrase worked its way into the farthest corners of the noisy pub without any effort whatsoever, and every eye in the room was trained upon him as a reverent hush descended upon the region. A few witches and wizards rushed out of the back, presumably to announce the news to Diagon Alley, while the rest mobbed him.
Professor Grint, he was sorry to say, was not nearly as skilled as Hagrid at removing crowds from the vicinity of his person. He tried his best – appealing to their better nature, and when that failed, raising his wand semi-threateningly – but the Muggle Studies Professor was unable to deal with the crushing horde that had surrounded him seeking handshakes, autographs and kisses.
(He had refused on the principle that he only kissed members of the opposite gender.)

Looking around, he noticed two things. Firstly, there was no sign of Quirrell here, which was understandable considering they had arrived on a different day from last time, and he could hardly expect Voldemort to spend all his time sitting in the Leaky Cauldron.
The second was that no message signifying ‘Stage Fright’ had appeared, as had on previous occasions where he was forced to stand up and say something in front of the entire class, and nor had he felt the effects of the negative charisma.

Even as he tried his best to work his way out of the crowd – being five foot three already, which had been his height in fifth year last time, certainly helped with that – he met Tom’s eyes, only to see a knowing look in them. The short man grinned, and Harry grinned back at him, knowing in that instant that he was on another Being’s domain, and that he himself held no power here.

He passed through the brick wall with his mind still on the God who was Barman in the Leaky Cauldron.

His first step in Diagon Alley had everyone staring at him, and immediately, his Charisma fell by five points. He saw, as he had suspected he would, that the text and the question marks were visible outside of the old pub. His older companion this time undertook preventive action, keeping his wand at ready as they made their way to Gringotts. Harry was disappointed to see that even in the Alley, most people were of the two-dimensional variety. He missed being able to hold a normal conversation with more than a handful of people, and he was astounded at the sheer number of people whom the Builder had deemed unimportant in his life.
Then again, that could hardly be the only criteria, seeing as he had never met Angela or Jo before, and was close friends with them this time around. He put down to one of the Builder’s whims, his thoughts lingering for a moment on the other Being’s mechanisms.

I should have seen it then, too. Ah, but then we would not be here, would we, had we seen it earlier?
Or perhaps we would. Perhaps Destiny is inescapable, inexorable.
Or am I thinking of Death?

The inside of the bank was a different experience for him. As soon as they reached a counter, the goblin spoke up in an even monotone.
“Good morning. What service would you like to avail?”

Withdrawal.
Deposit.
Transfer.
Vault Visit.
Account Details.

Harry looked around, only to see that the rest of the world was greyed out and frozen. He turned back to the goblin, where the spoken options were hanging in the air.

“Withdrawal.”

“Please submit your Vault Key.”

Mechanically, Professor Grint took a key out from his pocket and put it on the counter. It blinked and disappeared.

“The Key is in order. How much do you wish to withdraw?”

Harry had not done his own shopping often enough to have any idea how much it would cost; not to mention, of course, that he planned on buying a lot more things this time around. A lot.
Hmmm.
Best to play it safe.

10,000 Galleons put in Inventory.
Vault Key put in Inventory.

Harry wanted to see what Account Details meant, but nothing he said or did seemed capable of gaining the goblin’s attention. After ten minutes of standing there and swearing, the clerk suddenly spoke up.

“Good morning. What service would you like to avail?”

Withdrawal.
Deposit.
Transfer.
Vault Visit.
Account Details.

Harry groaned. “I would like to view my Account Details.” He said, unable to figure out what had activated the goblin, or if the mechanism was time-based. A folder appeared on the counter.

Potter Vault. Currently held by H. Potter under guardianship of A. Dumbledore.
Vault Access Method: Key.
Contents: 5,013,614 Galleons
               11 Sickles
               26 Knuts
Security Level: S
Interest Rate: 6% p.a.

That, right there, was a lot of Galleons.

Harry spent the rest of the day wandering the sordid streets of Diagon Alley – although technically, only one hour passed in Game time – and discovered just how odd shops were in the Game. None of the items, not even books in Flourish and Blotts, were things that he could use or even pick up; all of them were glued to the shelves. The titles and labels were badly blurred badly, very nearly pixelated, and yet somehow, the other people in the store could easily pick up and use each and every one of them.

‘No amount of time living in the Game will ever inure me to this.’

The sight of emotionless people doing the same repetitive tasks again and again… he had seen his share of Soul-Kissed people in the War, and had never thought he would see anything even half as horrifying. But here, as he walked down the busiest magical region in Great Britain, empty eyes turned to face him (they were staring because of his fame, he knew, but neither his mind nor his loudly-thudding heart understood that) and a shiver ran down his spine. The eyes were dead and soulless, belonging more on Inferi he had seen on an island in the sea than on people, eyes that lacked the quick flicker that characterized life. A horde of people – men, women, children – turned to face him, as he realized that with every step, he walked deeper and deeper into a ghost town.

It just made no sense to Harry, why the Builder would make something like this. It had obviously been in business a long, long while, making universes one after another. Why, then, had it done such a shoddy job with this one? This universe gave the impression of a rush-order job, something made hastily at the last minute, a gamble for more time.
What was the Builder gambling for?

Instincts forged by a close brush with a thousand deaths were silent now, but a vague uneasiness persisted.
The eyes followed.

Finally, finally I began to think. Too little, too late?

No, not yet.

That comes later.

The money he had withdrawn was far in excess. His wand, as he remembered, cost seven Galleons, while a complete potion set cost five. Accordingly, he splurged, buying out every single useful book available in Flourish and Blotts, multiple potion sets and a trunk similar to what Crouch Jr. had in his fourth year.

Do you wish to acquire unnamed post owl as your Companion?

He grinned at the snowy owl, which blinked imperiously back. “Yes.” He whispered, his spirits rising as he clutched the cage to his chest. Hedwig snuffled.

Companion added.

Harry immediately opened the Companions tab, but physically jumped back as a projection of Hedwig appeared in front of him.

Post Owl – Hedwig: Delivers Post

1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage it can take.] :     15
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic it can use.] :     4
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents its speed at running and dodging.] :     33
4. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly it can learn.] :    12
5. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work it can undertake.] :    19
6. VIT: [Vitality represents how long it can undertake physical activity.] :     25

Companions can be summoned to the side of the Gamer whenever required. The Gamer is responsible for allocating status points of the Companion.

Harry was no niggard when it came to compliments. This feature was, by far, one of the most useful features he had seen in the Game, bar maybe the Save and Load feature.

Peering about himself cautiously, Harry decided to take advantage of the fact that he was currently in a pet shop. Taking advantage of the shopkeeper’s momentary distraction, Harry grabbed a rat with a skipping rope and shoved it into his pocket. Moving into a corner, it was but the work of a moment for him to put it into his inventory system.

Creature ‘rat’ put in Inventory.

He took a few steps to the side and then, reopening the inventory, brought the squeaking rat back out. It showed a mild degree of panic, but that could be a byproduct of being in a strange person’s hand.

Maybe he was squeezing it too tightly.

He had at least gleaned from that experiment that living creatures could be put and transported in the Inventory. He saw no reason why the same could not be done for humans, although both the Magical world and the Game were severely lacking in logic.

Shopping had at the same time been both mind-numbingly boring and immensely educational. Every single shopkeeper in every single shop in all of Diagon Alley had the exact same method of selling items – monotonous dialogues and all. There were no conversations left to hold, even though the entire Alley was staring fishily at Harry with the single-minded intensity of Dudley Dursley at a slice of well-cooked ham. Even Professor Grint’s company was starting to wear him out – the man’s creativity was running thin, and he was tending to repeat the same dialogue again and again.

“Make sure you’ve got the entire school list, Harry.”

Yeah, that was the one.

On the other hand, he had managed to find out that living beings could be held and transported via the Inventory, and had obtained Hedwig as a companion. He also had in excess of a thousand books from Flourish and Blotts that he planned to memorize as soon as possible. And, perhaps the most importantly, he was on his way to buying a wand.

“Good afternoon.” Said a soft voice, and both Harry and Professor Grint jumped, even though they were both expecting it. The old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

Garrick Ollivander – Level 113
Relationship: Wandmaker
Reputation: +105
Mood: Pleasant

“Good afternoon.” Replied Harry, aborting his sudden grab for a wand that he didn’t have – which was, ironically enough, the reason he was here.
"Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. “Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

By this point, the old man was doing his best to get into Harry’s personal space. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
“And that’s where ...”
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger.
“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do ...”
He shook his head and then, to Harry’s relief, spotted Professor Grint.

“Rupert! Rupert Grint! How nice to see you again ... acacia, twelve and two-third inches, whippy yet brittle, wasn’t it?”
“Good to see you as well, Mr. Ollivander.” The professor replied, smiling. “Your memory is as perfect as ever.”

“Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see.” The wandmaker pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”
Harry extended his right arm, and the tape measure started dancing around his body for no apparent purpose.
“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

He was pulling down boxes from shelves and stacking them on the counter. After a few dozen were ready, he snapped his fingers and the tape measure collapsed from between his nostrils. “That will be enough.”
He presented the Boy-Who-Lived with a wand, handling it almost reverentially. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”
As he had expected, there was no reaction.
“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy.”
No reaction.
“Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy.”
No reaction.

As Harry remembered, the more wands failed to elicit even the most basic of reactions with Harry, the more gleeful Mr. Ollivander became. After half an hour had passed, Harry deemed it safe enough to ask some questions.

“On what basis do you select wands, Mr. Ollivander?”

The elderly wandmaker smiled, his fingers dancing amongst the dusty shelves. “Keep it a secret, Mr. Potter, but almost none of the measurements made by that tape measure are of any use whatsoever to me. The measurements of your hand and arm length allow me to predict what kind of hilt your wand will need, but that is all. The tape measure is a magical artifact much like the Sort- much like an artifact you will see in a few months, in that it allows me to judge your character and so recommend a wand for you.”

New skill created: Wand Crafting, Level 1, 0%.

New Quest Obtained!
Steal Garrick Ollivander’s magical Tape Measure.
Rewards: +10 skill points
+100 XP
-10 reputation with Garrick Ollivander
Start Quest – Yes/No

Harry nearly said yes out of sheer force of habit – the rarity of quests meant that he tended to immediately accept whichever ones he did receive. As he considered, however, he realized that learning wand crafting was potentially much more useful than the rewards could ever hope to be. He remembered when Hermione had accidentally broken his wand when they were ambushed by Nagini – and he was only now realizing how humiliating being defeated by a snake should have been – and the difficulty he had had in using another person’s wand. If he could make his own wands, well, he would never be in danger of not having a spare.

“No.” he said to the quest, for the first time in this life. The Game sprung back to life.

“I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”
Harry received this wand with a reverence that very nearly matched that which Ollivander showed to it. A rush of nearly orgasmic Gryffindor sparks left the tip of his wand the moment his hand touched it.

Weapon obtained: Wand. Match: 76%.

“Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious.”
He put Harry’s wand back into its box, still muttering. “Curious… curious.”

“My apologies, Mr. Ollivander,” said Harry. “but what is curious about my wand?”

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare, but Harry refused to be unnerved. He had faced down the fucking Dark Lord, gods-be-damned! He was not going to be unnerved by a perfectly (probably) human and mortal wandmaker!
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.”

So no new information on that front. Pity.
“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.”

Ah yes. Terrible things, but great. That he could agree with.

“Mr. Ollivander, I have a few questions.”

“Yes, there are wand holsters available. No, I do not sell them. There are several leatherworkers along Diagon Alley that do. Yes, you may change the hilt. No, you may not carve, cover, or in any way attempt to decorate your wand. There is only one wand with decorations on it, and it is not the one currently in your hand, Mr. Potter.”

Harry blinked, slightly stunned at that barrage, but mentally filed away the information about the wand holsters and the leatherworkers. “Actually, Mr. Ollivander, none of those answered my question.”

The white-maned woodcarver raised a curious eyebrow. “Why then, Mr. Potter, you may be about to surprise me! Do ask.”

Well, he had received permission. At this point, it would be positively rude to bow out! “I was wondering whether you would be amenable to teaching me about wandcrafting.”

The old man stared at Harry for a long moment, before chuckling. On Harry’s left, a nearly-forgotten Professor Grint seemed to choke. “In the Hogwarts Library, there are a multitude of books on magical and wand theory, as well as tomes about the properties of different animal and plant parts. When you have mastered those, you may come to me and repeat your request – and even better, I may even accept.”

Still chuckling, Ollivander took his payment and bowed the duo out of his shop.

His forty-five-minute session an Ollivander’s was perhaps, the most fruitful activity he had conducted in years. Not only had he obtained his first weapon, but had also received an open invitation to come and learn wandcrafting -  a skill so highly prized in the magical world that a wandmaker of talent was practically revered by more ordinary folk. On the other hand, he was more than slightly disappointed that Garrick Ollivander turned out to be nothing more than a human – his memories of the aged crafter recalled a mysterious, silent figure with piercing silver eyes, which seemed to him to fit the bill of a deity near-perfectly.

On the other hand, he had in no way expected Tom to be anything more than a bartender, so really, what did he know.

Professor Grint, he was glad to see, was taking the same route back to Privet Drive that Hagrid had taken – he evidently felt it was his duty, as Muggle Studies Professor, to experience every facet of Muggle culture, including the London Underground. Harry wholeheartedly supported this decision as being mutually beneficial; he dearly wanted a chance to hold a conversation with the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron. Entering the pub, he saw that the crowd had lessened dramatically – they were now the only people inside of it. As they passed the counter, Harry calmly walked off and stood next to Bombadil. The Professor, to his surprise, kept walking on without any indication of knowledge of the Boy-Who-Lived’s absence. He gave a surprised glance at Tom, who shrugged and said nothing, his cheerful smile as permanent a fixture on his face as the lightning bolt scar was on Harry’s.

“Harry Potter.” The being said softly – for he was sure that Bombadil was not human, he was of the same species that Harry and the Builder belonged to, all he needed now was proof. “The newest, or perhaps oldest, of the deities.”

“Good afternoon.” Said Harry, because according to Game mechanics it was afternoon, though who knew what time it was in Tom’s domain. “If it is not rude to ask, what are you exactly?”
Politeness never hurt while dealing with entities that could most likely vaporize you with a single thought. Tom smiled wider but said nothing to answer his question.

“Long ago,” the barman began, seating himself at a table. “I lived on another earth called the Middle Earth, in another world created by the Ilúvitar – the Builder, as you know It.
Then, a few centuries, or millennia, or possibly even seconds ago, I sensed the birth of another deity, somewhere in the cosmos that we are all a part of – and it was not an unimportant event, but one that resounded in the minds of all those with eyes to see what they could.
And then, when the Builder-of-the-New made another universe – a very interesting one too, in all my years I have never seen another like it – I saw that you were here, and so I too came, for who is Old Tom to stand in the way of a Destiny such as this?”

Men who seek to deny Death are consumed by its fury; those who stand in Destiny’s path are similarly swept aside.

“I am the Master of Death.” Said Harry. “That is all, in the end.”

For a long moment there was silence, as two deities stared at each other across the stained-oak table, until Tom let out a long, slow laugh that seemed to arise from the depths of the earth to spill across the lands.

“A fine answer.” He said. “Full of fine words, and fine thoughts, but telling me little and leaving me less. But be warned, Master of Death, that though I am not your enemy, there are others out there, crueler than Old Tom, though they be younger, that would not take as kindly to words of the kind that you just said – answers they seek, and answers they will get, one way or another.”

And before Harry left, Tom taught him a rhyme to summon him if he ever be in need of aid – though in his own mind Harry swore that he would never be driven to such a desperate recourse.

And as he left, Harry looked down the street, and though the world was filled with lights, none burnt brighter than Tom’s; though all the places of the world were still and resting, none were more peaceful, nor gladder than Tom’s.
And then he heard the last strains of a song floating through the windows, and he smiled, for though the world was indeed full of peril, and in it there were many dark places; but still there was much that was fair, and though in all lands love was mingled with grief, it grew, perhaps, the greater.

Travelling by the Underground in the Game was an interesting experience. Harry had barely stepped into the station when the world froze, and a menu popped up in front of him, similar to the menus he saw when he wanted to buy something in shops. As soon as he chose a destination, he was forcibly apparated away – even the though the destination he chose was Number 4, Privet Drive.

It seemed that the London Underground had a station directly outside his house that he had apparently been overlooking all these years.

Entering the Dursley household, he was not given the warmest of welcomes. Dudley was predictably enough in his room, playing some or the other video game on his latest conquest – err… device. His only reaction to seeing Harry was to give him a companionable nod through the open doorway.
Uncle Vernon was at Grunnings, evidently not having considered Harry’s return a big enough event to keep him from his job.
Aunt Petunia, upon seeing him from where she sat in the living room, gave him a look filled with equal parts of hate, fury and fear, which would have been rather more appropriate if Harry had raped and murdered her only daughter. Sensing that there was a chance his company would not be entirely welcome at that quarter, he trudged into his room and unloaded his packages onto his bed. There was the entire month of August left before Hogwarts was to begin. He planned to use that time wisely.

“Good evening, Uncle.”
The large moustached man looked up from his newspaper and nodded. “Evening.” He said gruffly, and waited for Harry to speak.
“My – ah – school starts tomorrow, and I have to reach there by train. The train leaves from King’s Cross Station, and I was hoping you would take me there.”

The Durley patriarch considered the point. The Dursleys had no pressing engagements, and the 1 ^st of September was a Sunday, so he didn’t have to go to work. There really was no reason not to. The sense of normality that came with there being train – from King’s Cross, no less – to pick up students of this school was also a deciding factor. There could be no funny business going on at King’s Cross.

Reputation check passed.

“Alright. We’ll leave at nine.” He paused for a moment. “You’ve decided against Smeltings, then?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
He snorted. “Your loss.” He muttered, going back to his newspaper. “Fine school, Smeltings. Went there myself. Fine school.”
Harry decided to keep his opinion of Smeltings to himself.

Harry wheeled his trunk – it was completely empty, he really didn’t know why he had bought it – through the crush of people, his train ticket for the Hogwarts Express shoved deep in the pocket of his trousers. He had no owl cage balanced on top, which spared him a lot of odd glances, while Hedwig was… wherever Companions went when they weren’t summoned. He really had no idea.
None of the Weasleys were in sight yet, which was not altogether surprising given their propensity for packing at the last minute. Platform Nine, thankfully, was quite empty, and he reached the pillar that was also a magical gateway in short order.

Gateway Discovered! Enter Gateway to reach Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
Enter Gateway – Yes/No.

His confirmation saw him being magically whisked onto the Platform in question. Suddenly, he was standing in front of the brightly-painted Hogwarts Express.

It struck him that rather a lot of things in the Wizarding World were in Gryffindor colors. He knew all about the significance of colors – it had been included in one of the books he had bought at Flourish and Blotts – but this was getting ridiculous. It was clear evidence of a Gryffindor – and hence, anti-Slytherin – bias.

Board train – Yes/No.

And all of a sudden, he was on the Hogwarts Express, inhabiting the same compartment he had inhabited for six years of going to and coming back from Hogwarts. A whistle rang throughout the length of the train, and the Express lurched into motion. He checked his watch. It read as precisely eleven.
Which was odd, because he had reached the Platform at ten.

Ah well.

Information - Locked

     Name: Harry James Potter
     Origin: Dursley’s
     D.O.B: 31 July 1980
     Gender: Male
     Level: 30 [+ 105 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1.  ADVANTAGES: 
      1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
      
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   35
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   35
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 59+5 =       64
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   59
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   37
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] :    88
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    63
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     60
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    1
      
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.
      1. Potioneering: Level 1 – 0%
   2. Flirting: Lvl 100Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.
   3. Waiter: Lvl 100Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.
   4. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!
      
      1. Herbology: Level 1 – 0%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
   6. Kissing: Lvl 100
      You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.
      
   7. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
   8. Fucking: Lvl 25 – 30%
   9. Wandcrafting: Lvl 1 – 0%
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
   4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities/Deities to the Waiting Room, ???
   5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -205
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36
Relationship: Best Friend
Reputation: +870
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15
Relationship: Lover
Reputation: +1000
Attractiveness: 16
Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 380 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.
4. 9138 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 1 Knut
5. Standard Hogwarts armor robes x 3
6. Book x 187
7. Standard Hogwarts Potions Kit
8. Owl Treats
9. Tough Dragonhide Hand Armor
10. Telescope Set
11. Writing Set x 2

Quests

1. Make the Dursleys like you, ???
   Rewards: +30 skill points
   +100 XP
   ???
   
   
2. Complete The Sheets
   Rewards: +20 skill points
   + 800 XP
   
   
3. Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.
   Rewards: +100 skill points.
   +500 XP

Post Owl – Hedwig: Delivers Post

1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage it can take.] :     20
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic it can use.] :     5
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents its speed at running and dodging.] :     41
4. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly it can learn.] :         15
5. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work it can undertake.] :          21
6. VIT: [Vitality represents how long it can undertake physical activity.] :           27

Companions can be summoned to the side of the Gamer whenever required. The Gamer is responsible for allocating status points of the Companion.

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express, it seemed, worked on a basis rather different from that of the London Underground. Rather than transporting him instantly, it was moving like a normal train did, with wheels and tracks and bumps. Perhaps it was just as well, because as he recalled, he had made some rather important life decisions on his first journey on this train, and he would hate to not have the opportunity to correct some of them, seeing as how he was living his entire life again.
As he remembered, there was a knock on his cabin door, and a gangly redhead with freckles poked his head into the compartment.

“Can I sit here?” asked Ronald Bilius Weasley. “All the other compartments are full.”

Game paused.

This was the decision that he had been repeatedly delaying, a decision that, with his hard-won wisdom, was not as cut-and-dried as it might seem at first. Ron had been his friend for seven years, but to say that he was loyal would be overstating it. He had deserted Harry twice, once during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and once, in a situation slightly more perilous – which was saying something – the Horcrux Hunt.

He knew very well that he could not judge someone based on something they had yet to, and perhaps would never, do. Yet the mere possibility of a betrayal was enough to make Harry reconsider his decisions from the first time around – big changes, after all, were yet to come, and with them would come hard times. He needed people around him that he could trust.
Objectively, the benefits brought to him through friendship with Ron were relatively few. Association with the twins would be useful for obtaining both the Map and the various ingenious products created by the two pranksters – Harry had yet to find a single light that could clear the darkness of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, or a distraction as effective as the Decoy Detonator. His rescue after the Dobby incident had been provident, but Harry had no intention of allowing such an event to occur this time round. He had never been particularly close to any of the other Weasley males, or to Mrs. Weasley. As for Ginny, well –

Oh god. He had missed his first chance to see Ginny. He suddenly felt sick as a vivid memory of a red-haired girl running after the train flashed before his eyes.

Emotional Override – Temporary -5 to WIS and INT.

Oh Merlin. Had he missed his first chance to meet Ginny? Was this going to be the way he spent the rest of his new life – so caught up in the thrill of doing it over again that he missed out on what mattered, so eager to be the best he could possibly become that he forgot his real goals?

INT check passed.

When had he last saved the Game? Harry furiously racked his memory, any and all thoughts about Ron driven out as he tried to remember how far back he could go. He distinctly recalled saving after getting out of the car, just so that he would not have to go through the entire car ride once again.
It didn’t matter. “Load Game.” He said, as desperately as he had ever spoken two words in his life, and felt his despair ebb as music whisked him away.

Harry found himself standing on the pavement outside King’s Cross, trolley in hand and Hedwig flying overheard. His momentary disorientation earned him a slurry of abuse from the pedestrians who bumped into him, presumably holiday-goers and early morning commuters. Despite hearing more four-letter-words in the span of a five minutes than an average person, with care, used in his entire life, Harry was beaming. Anticipation made his stomach curl itself into knots as he settled down to wait for the Weasley family.

An hour later, an easily-recognizable troupe of redheads entered the station and immediately gave it the impression of being filled to the brim. Leading them all was the Weasley matriarch, who managed her children with efficiency and kindness – except, of course, the Twins. A group of circus trainers with whips and a casual disregard for human rights may, with time and luck on their side, have been able to manage the Twins, but it was a task beyond any single individual.
Trailing behind, as he recalled, was the slight figure of Ginevra Molly Weasley.

Being the youngest in a family of this size was, Ginny had decided many years ago, one of the worst fates that could befall a human. Every year she watched as yet another one of her brothers went to Hogwarts, which was awful; what was worse was that every year when they came back in the summer holidays, they would be full of tales that sounded rather too unbelievable to be true.

People were supposed to hate school – it was just her luck that everyone she knew seemed to think Hogwarts was the best thing since Quidditch.
She was distracted from her self-pitying spiral by the appearance of a boy next to her. He gave the impression of one who was extremely comfortable where he was and in no hurry to move, which fitted in nicely with the fact that the Twins, with their antics, were doing an excellent job of distracting everyone from actually going through the barrier.

This could take a while.

“First Year, too?” the boy asked suddenly, and for lack of anything better to do, she turned her attention to him. He was a fair bit taller than her and, she saw, quite nice to look at. She blushed spontaneously at the sudden thought, even as she noted just how nice and green his eyes were. He seemed momentarily to be looking at something slightly above her head, before he looked back down at her.
Suddenly, his question registered with her, and she started. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then pouted. “No, not yet. Apparently, I’ve to wait till next year before I can go to Hogwarts, since I’m not eleven yet.”

He grinned easily. “Authority figures are the worst.” He agreed, and even though he was probably making fun of her, Ginny couldn’t help but feel herself warming to him. It was only then that it occurred to her that he might not be going to Hogwarts at all – it was, after all, a Muggle train station – but his calm acceptance of her statements bore out her initial assumption.
“Ginevra Weasley” she said, holding out her hand, “but everyone calls me Ginny.” He accepted her hand and in the few seconds that he shook it, she was surprised to notice that his palms were quite rough and calloused.

“Nice to meet you, Ginny.” He said.

It was only when he let go of her hand and turned to move through the pillar did she realize that he had yet to introduce himself. Hurrying after him, she also realized that during the course of the conversation, she had not noticed her family leaving, just as they had apparently not noticed that she was not with them. Slipping through the barrier – and he had shown no hesitation in walking through it, so he was probably a pureblood or halfblood – she bumped into him standing directly in front of the barrier. The reason for this became clear when she saw the line of parents and students in front of the Express, a line which had not in the least been shortened by the addition of her family.

“When one person introduces themselves, you’re supposed to reciprocate.” She mock-scolded. He looked startled for a moment, before letting out a bark of laughter.

“Guess.” He said, a crooked smile still on his face. She gaped at him.

“How in the name of Merlin-forsworn am I supposed to guess your name?” she asked in exasperation. “I know nothing about you!”

His smile was growing larger by the second, his eyes sparkling with mirth.  “Nevertheless, you will find that with the proper application of the logical thought process, much can be achieved.”

Her eye twitched, and damnitall only Fred and George were able to bring about that reaction in her until now. “And you will find,” she growled. “That much can also be achieved when I apply my foot to kick your butt.”

He did not seem properly cowed by this formidable threat. Her mother, fortunately, was far away enough that she was unable to hear the kind of language a girl picked up when she had six elder brothers.

She stamped her foot in frustration. “Why can’t you just tell me?” she said, and he let out another bark of laughter.
“I am currently not at liberty to divulge my identity.” He said gravely, and she giggled despite herself. “But see if you can figure it out.”
He paused for a moment, before darting forward and kissing her on the cheek. It was the barest whisper of a kiss, his lips just lightly brushing against her skin, and then he was gone, eaten up by a gold and scarlet steam locomotive.

“Who was that boy you were with, Ginny?” her mother asked as the three of them moved to the nearby Apparition point. She shrugged absently.

“I don’t know his name.” she said. “I just met him.”

“All the other compartments are full.”

Game Paused.

Did he want Ron in his life or not? On the one hand, Ron had been his friend for many years, many long years filled with adventures and death and laughter. He had believed him when he said that Voldemort was back, had fought with the world for him, had stood at his back and stared into the darkness with him.
On the other hand, the number of times that he had betrayed him was not something Harry could easily forget. The TriWizard Tournament and the Horcrux Hunt… they were too big an elephant in the room to ignore, even if he was the only one who could see the elephant.

He shook his head – or at least tried to, the game being paused preventing him from making any sort of movement. He was too close to this, too emotionally involved to make the right decision. He needed to pull out of it and start thinking instead of feeling, needed to make an objective decision before he fucked up his second life even more drastically than his first.

WIS Check passed.

What did Ron actually bring to the table? Contact with the Weasley family could be made in other ways, primarily through the Twins and, hopefully, Ginny. None of his assistance had been so invaluable as to be irreplaceable – his most crucial moment had been outwitting an animated chess set in their first year. He was hot-heated and prone to fits of jealousy which had no apparent basis in logic.

He was, in short, a liability.

Game resumed.

“No.” he said coldly, ignoring the way his heart was sinking. The ginger in front of him was clearly not expecting that answer, and blinked confusedly. “What?” he managed, and Harry waved him away irritably.
“Go away.” He snapped. “I don’t want you here.”

Hidden Quest ‘Make an Enemy’ complete.
Reward: -5 to Charisma
Game Saved.

What the fuck!

As Ron closed the door behind him, Harry took in a deep, wavering breath and tried to blink away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. Reaching into his bag, he drew out a parchment and a quill. He might as well get started on a letter to Ginny.

Was it appropriate for him to use the word ‘dear’ or not?

Harry had calmed down considerably by the time the cabin door next opened and a bushy-haired girl stepped in.
“Have you seen a toad?” she asked. “Neville’s lost one.” 
Harry wondered whether he would ever get used to the near-constant déjà vu.

Hermione Granger – Lvl 18
Relationship: Stranger
Reputation: +30
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: Hopeful, Nervous, Determined

Just a six on attractiveness?
Harry felt a little insulted on Hermione’s behalf.

The boy she was talking to seemed to be constantly amused by something. His eyes crinkled slightly as he looked at her, putting his feather and paper – no, quill and parchment – to the side.
“And you are?” he asked politely, though an undercurrent of humor ran through his tone. She flushed. That at least explained why he was amused.
“Hermione Granger.” She said. “First year.”
He got up and, instead of shaking her hand, bowed and gently kissed the back of it, taking his sweet time about it. By the time he straightened up, her cheeks were suffused with blood, in stark contrast to the boy in front of her, who looked solemn and grave as a Pope. “Harry Potter.” He said. “Pleased to meet you.”

She then realized that her hand was still being gently held by his, and quickly withdrew it. Her face felt far too hot, and she dazedly wondered whether he could feel the warmth radiating from her like a fireplace.

She only broke out of her befuddlement when he led her to a seat. “Oh no!’ she exclaimed, jumping up. “I promised to help Neville find his toad.” She cast an apologetic glance at her companion – who, she was just realizing, was the Harry Potter – because she did not want to leave. There were, in fact, few things she had ever wanted less, but you weren’t allowed to break promises, and she had promised Neville she would try.

He sighed in disappointment and escorted her to the door. “If you will not sit with me, Miss Granger, may I at least have the honor of accompanying you on your task?” he asked, and so polished and- and old school was his behavior that Hermione was unable to tell whether it was an affectation or simply the way he was raised.

“Of course!” she said eagerly, and smiling, he opened the door of the compartment for her to pass through.
As he followed her into the corridor, a sudden thought struck her – that in this while, he had been flirting with her. It seemed quite unbelievable, but it was undeniable.
He had been flirting with her.
She amended the thought.
He had been flirting with her, Hermione Granger, the girl who had been mocked for years for being ugly and a nerd, and had, so far, been unable to make friends in school.
She amended it further.
Harry Potter, a famous, handsome, and old-world-manner chivalrous boy had been flirting with her, Hermione Granger, the girl who had been mocked for years for being ugly and a nerd, and had so far, been unable to make friends in school.

She blushed and stumbled, reddening even more when the subject of her thoughts turned to her in concern. She was painfully aware that the color had covered her entire face and was exploring its way down her neck.

They had made perhaps five steps down the hallway when they were stopped by a voice from behind.
“I had heard that Harry Potter was on this train.” Said a pale-skinned boy with slicked-back white hair and what seemed to be a permanent sneer on his face. He was flanked by two other boys who reminded one of the traditional villain’s henchmen, scaled down to children.

“I heard the same rumor.” Replied her companion politely, and she only barely muffled a snort at the look of confusion on the other boy’s face. She shouldn’t have felt amused at that, it really was quite cruel, but it was simply too funny.

“Is it you?” he asked Harry at last, ignoring her existence entirely. Harry nodded and held out a hand.
“Harry Potter.” Said Harry. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The other boy accepted it and reciprocated. “Draco Malfoy.” He said. “This is Crabbe and Goyle.” At last, he turned to her. “And who might you be?” he asked, and Hermione felt vaguely irritated by his constant air of superiority.
“Hermione Granger, First Year.” She said, giving him the same introduction that she had given to Harry. She desperately hoped he wouldn’t kiss her hand – Malfoy, not Harry. She wouldn’t mind Harry kissing her hand again.

He took her hand and shook it quickly. “Granger.” He mused. “Any relation to the Dartworth-Grangers?” he asked, and she blinked.
“Probably not, since I’m Muggleborn.” She replied, and watched as his sneer, for an instant, became pronounced, before he turned back to Harry and resumed ignoring her existence, this time with a cold edge of disdain.
“You want to be careful, Potter. You’re new to the Wizarding World, and you might end up associating with the wrong sort of folk.” Although he did not look at Hermione, she was very sure that he was referring to her. “I could guide you around, show you who the wrong folk are… and introduce you to the right folk.”
Hermione suddenly realized that despite his not having moved in the slightest, Harry suddenly seemed to be between her and Malfoy, as opposed to by her side.

“I believe, Malfoy” said Harry, and his voice was bitingly cold. “That I am an adequate judge of character to be able to tell the right sort from the wrong sort by myself. As such, while I am grateful for your offer of assistance, it is not required.”

A scowl flashed over Malfoy’s features. “You’ll regret this Potter.” He warned. “You may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Malfoys are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. My father rules Britain.”

If Draco was sneering and dismissive, Harry was icily calm, his voice a barest whisper that danced over the edge of the skin like shards of broken glass, raising goosebumps in their trail.

“The might of the Malfoys rests solely upon the influence of your father in both the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Directors, Malfoy, and that influence exists due to the eloquence with which he can sway others to his side. Having clearly adopted his beliefs, it would be wise for you to learn some of his diplomacy as well, before you are beset by problems that cannot be solved by throwing ludicrous amounts of your grandfather’s hard-earned gold at them.”

And just like that, Harry brushed past the other boys. Hermione only barely remembered to move in time to stay with him.

From behind them, Malfoy raised his voice. “I’m not done with you, Potter!” he shouted, his voice shaking with fury. He was too spoilt, decided Hermione, and pitied him rather than hated him for it.
“Good day, Malfoy.” Harry said without either turning around or breaking stride, his voice impossibly even more frigid than his previous words. There was a clear sense of finality in his tone that apparently even Malfoy was able to sense.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask – about the Malfoys, about Harry and the Boy-Who-Lived, about the Wizengamot and the Sacred Twenty-Eight – but she kept her silence, not wanting to irritate him when he was clearly still rather annoyed, if his clenched jaw was any indication.

“Oh, just ask.” He said suddenly, glancing over at her in amusement, and (in a completely insensitive and altogether foolish display that Hermione could only blame on being startled) she blurted out the first question that had arisen in her mind.

“Do you remember the night when You-Know-Who came and ki-”

Oh god.

Oh dear god.

That wasn’t what she had meant to ask at all; of all the stupid, unthinking things to blurt out that had to be the very worst.

“Yes.” He said, so softly she could barely hear him. “I remember.”

Oh.

There was silence for a few moments. Harry was gazing into space, while Hermione tried to come to terms with the fact she might just have run off her first friend (and he was Harry Potter) by asking him whether he remembered the murder of his parents.
She sniffed. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I didn’t think – I didn’t mean to remind you of – please, I’m really, really sorry, my curiosity gets out of hand sometimes but I didn’t mean to be rude-”
Harry looked up, startled. “What?” he asked in confusion, before blinking. “Oh no, it’s fine, Ms. Granger – I wasn’t even thinking about that. I’m serious.” He added, when Hermione peered at him hopefully. “I was actually wondering how we would find a toad on the entire Hogwarts Express.”

She gave a watery smile and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief that he offered to her. She doubted he was actually thinking about toads with an expression that somber, but appreciated the out he was offering her.

“I was thinking that he probably isn’t in any of the compartments, since someone would have found him by now, and we’ve walked the entire length of the corridor. He’s a toad, so he’s probably in the bathrooms at the end of the train.”
She shook her head, bushy hair swinging around and hitting him on the shoulder. “He isn’t in any of them – I already checked.” She said, tucking it behind her ear and hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I thought of all of that already.”

He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Even the boy’s ones?” he asked mischievously, and her eyes narrowed.

“Well, obviously not when someone was in them.” She stated dismissively. “The spirit of the law is to make sure that people of the opposite gender don’t engage in illicit behaviors with each other, which I easily ensured could not take place by-”

Once again, Harry interrupted her defensive babbling (and this going to be a habit of his, she could just tell), though this time he did it by the simple yet expedient means of placing a finger gently over her lips. She ceased immediately, face flushing at the contact. Reflexively, her lips parted slightly, and her tongue brushed against the pad of his finger.
He tastes nice. She thought, and the rose of her cheeks turned to strawberry. She swallowed, her eyes flickering away from his. And I just licked Harry Potter’s finger.

“I would not dream of putting you at fault, Ms. Granger.” He said, eyes dancing with mirth, and she shuffled uncomfortably.

“Call me Hermione.” She offered, not entirely at ease with being called ‘Miss’ – it was simply too formal a term to sit well with someone her age addressing her. He smiled slightly and inclined his head.
“It would be an honor… Hermione.”
Something about the way he said her name made her blush again, something about the way he caressed the word, whispered it with an affection and reverence that seemed almost intimate. She wished he would say it again, just so that she could hear it once more.

Her heart was beating rather too fast.

“So, if he isn’t in the corridor or in the bathrooms, where could he possibly be?” asked Harry, hopefully unaware of her inner turmoil. She shook her head.

“I asked Neville about that. Apparently, he belongs to a subspecies of magical toad that can teleport over short distances.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
“So,” he said drily. “Our current aim is to catch Trevor the Teleporting Toad.”

“…Yes.” She replied, not nearly as deadpan. Her lips twitched, but Harry held his composure.

Hermione was the first to break, snorting in a very unladylike fashion before breaking down into a fit of laughter. Harry joined her, and soon they were leaning on the walls – well, Harry was leaning on the wall and Hermione was leaning on Harry – gasping as they tried to draw breath back into their lungs, tears of mirth still flowing from their eyes.

Harry’s eyes flickered briefly to the air in front of him and he straightened up, suddenly looking a lot more business-like.
“Well, Hermione,” he said, and she blushed again. “We may as well get started.”

They froze as a very male scream sounded from the compartment three doors down.

“Well, that was easy.” Said Hermione mildly.

As they walked down the corridor, Harry examined the toad captured in his hand. “I would never have thought this toad capable of Apparition.” He mused out loud, and Hermione suppressed a grin, having learnt of Apparition from one of the numerous texts she had purchased on her first visit to Diagon Alley.
As if to prove Harry wrong, Trevor disappeared and reappeared with a crack four inches from Hermione’s nose. She gave a shrill shriek and fell backwards.

She never even saw Harry move – for all she knew he was as capable of Apparition as the toad itself. One moment she had just realized that she was falling, the next she was being held securely in one of his arms, while the other darted out to grab Trevor from midair.

She clutched his shirt, panting as she tried to get her breathing under control. She had not, until now, really noticed how tall he was, just vaguely registering that he was taller than her. Now though, she saw that even bent over, she was eye-level with the crook of his neck, while her nose brushed against the skin just above his shirt.

She took a deep breath and buried her face into his skin, breathing in his scent deeply. As she decided that he was the nicest thing she had ever smelt, she came to the realization that, like her mother had described to Hermione on her eleventh birthday, she was having her first crush.
On the day that her mother had held this conversation, Hermione had particularly dismissive of the idea, particularly in light of The Talk that she had received a few hours prior. Feeling the warmth of his hand on her side and the steady, strong beat of his heart, she felt her skepticism falter and fail.

She pulled away reluctantly and smiled at her savior. “Thanks.” She said, sighing inwardly when his palm slid down from her side only to come to rest on her hand. She walked the rest of the corridor with her hand in Harry’s, alternatively blushing and tripping for no discernable reason. They handed Trevor over to a grateful Neville, after which Harry insisted she accompany him to his cabin – insisted in his polite, charming manner that was very hard to say no to, especially when Hermione did not in the least want to refuse.

What occurred next was an odd sequence of events that Hermione was unable to fully explain to herself. She had sat down next to Harry, admiring the ease with which he stowed away her trunk, and had ruthlessly questioned him about his life (do you know you’re mentioned in ‘The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts’?). Being tired from searching for Trevor the entire length of the train, she had closed her eyes and let her head fall back, only for it to bump into Harry’s shoulder. The obvious step from this was that she leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder, at which point he had wrapped an arm around her. This had – somehow – led to her snuggling deeper into Harry, her head eventually coming to rest on his chest, while she herself was practically tucked into his side.

He was telling her wizarding fairy tales by a writer named ‘Beetle’, and the hum his chest made as he spoke was soothing. She gave a soft, contented sigh, half-dreaming something soft press against her forehead as she drifted off.

Harry woke her up two hours later. She groggily raised her head, blinking her sleep away and wondering why the side of her face was sticky – no. She had not just drooled on Harry Potter’s chest.
She absently wished she had some place to hide her face (and no, his chest was not an option).

“We’re nearly at Hogwarts, Hermione.” Said Harry. “You should get up and change into your robes.” His hand slipped down from her shoulders and ran down her back and she sighed softly, because that felt good.

Awkwardly clambering off him, she smoothed her skirt down and decided that the situation – while undoubtedly embarrassing – was not unsalvageable; she hadn’t mortified herself completely.

As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly. She buried her face in her hands, while Harry simply chuckled and left her in the compartment to change.

Later – much later – that evening, a barn owl winged its way past the village of Ottery St. Catchpole and into the Burrow. It landed in front of its youngest occupant, who was ready to sleep by that point, and proffered its leg.

Dear Ginny,
I’m curious as to whether you have guessed my identity yet. In case you have, I have instructed the owl to wait so as to bring your reply back. In case you have not, just send a reply anyway.
Don’t cheat and give one of your brother’s a description of me.
Anyway, how has your day been? I can’t imagine it being very fun for you with all of your brothers either at Hogwarts or at their jobs. Then again, you might finally get some peace and quiet in your house.
This letter will probably reach you quite late, but I’m writing this from the Hogwarts Express itself, and so obviously cannot tell you anything about Hogwarts itself. The Express seems remarkably similar to most Muggle trains, and I’m amusing myself by thinking of the reactions of several prominent purebloods of society to this piece of information. Since I will have to take this train twice a year, can you suggest some leisure activities for a bored mind?
Take care and reply soon,
The Boy from King’s Cross.

Information - Locked
Name: Harry James Potter
Origin: Dursley’s
D.O.B: 31 July 1980
Gender: Male
Level: 30 [+ 120 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1. ADVANTAGES:
      1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperious, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   35
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   36
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 59+5 = 64
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   54
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   37
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] :    88
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    63
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     60
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    1
      
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.
      
      1. Potioneering: Level 1 – 0%
   2. Flirting: Lvl 100
      Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.
   3. Waiter: Lvl 100
      Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.
      
   4. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!
      
      1. Herbology: Level 1 – 0%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
   6. Kissing: Lvl 100
      You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.
   7. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
   8. Fucking: Lvl 25 – 30%
   9. Wandcrafting: Lvl 1 – 0%
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
   4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities/Deities to the Waiting Room, ???
   5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -205
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36
Relationship: Best Friend
Reputation: +870
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15
Relationship: Lover
Reputation: +1000
Attractiveness: 16
Mood: ???

Hermione Granger – Lvl 18
Relationship: Friend-With-A-Crush
Reputation: +340
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 380 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.
4. 9138 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 1 Knut
5. Standard Hogwarts armor robes x 3
6. Book x 187
7. Standard Hogwarts Potions Kit
8. Owl Treats
9. Tough Dragonhide Hand Armor
10. Telescope Set
11. Writing Set x 2

Quests

1. Make the Dursleys like you, ???
   Rewards: +30 skill points
   +100 XP
   ???
   
   
2. Complete The Sheets
   Rewards: +20 skill points
   + 800 XP
   
3. Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.
   Rewards: +100 skill points
   +500 XP

Post Owl – Hedwig: Delivers Post

1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage it can take.] :     20
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic it can use.] :     5
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents its speed at running and dodging.] :     41
4. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly it can learn.] :         15
5. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work it can undertake.] :          21
6. VIT: [Vitality represents how long it can undertake physical activity.] :           27

Companions can be summoned to the side of the Gamer whenever required. The Gamer is responsible for allocating status points of the Companion.

Chapter Text

Now this was familiar. Booming cries of “Firs’ Years!” rang across the Station, as Harry had heard them ring so many times before. He offered his arm to Hermione – suppressing his grin when she blushed – and the two of them wove their way to a certain half-giant whom Harry could not have been gladder to see.
His companion’s jaw dropped when she realized just how tall Hagrid was – ten feet was easily twice of her current height. She carefully closed her mouth and looked at Harry in amazement. He raised an eyebrow on an otherwise neutral face.

She blushed again. He was highly amused.

Familiar faces crowded around him as Hagrid began loading the First Years, four to each boat. Harry stepped carefully into his – desperately hoping that magic was involved in keeping the wooden coffin afloat – before chivalrously helping Hermione in after him.
He really did not remember her blushing so easily.

They were accompanied by a dark-skinned boy who introduced himself as Blaise Zabini and turned out to be decent level 20, and a red-haired girl who mumbled something that might have been ‘Sally’ and whom Harry vaguely associated with Hufflepuff.
Zabini’s eyes crinkled when he saw how close Hermione sat to Harry – the boats were slightly cramped, but Sally was able to maintain an adequate distance from Zabini – and looked away after blandly meeting Harry’s gaze.

Zabini did not feature in any of his recollections, but he was probably a Slytherin.

They ducked under the ivy – only Hagrid really needed to duck, but it seemed right – rounded the corner, and saw the magnificent sight that was Hogwarts.
Everyone went ooooh like a seven-year-old seeing boobies in a magazine.

New Quest Obtained – ‘Son of a Marauder’ Timed Quest series!
Upset someone’s boat while they stare at a school.
Time limit: 20s
Rewards: +1 skill point
              +5 XP
Start Quest – Yes/No

And that was a truly pointless quest – but why the fuck not. “Yes.” He announced. Everyone was completely engrossed in the magnificent sight that was Hogwarts, and he casually leaned over and flipped the boat next to theirs upside down. The timer that had appeared at the corner of his vision froze.

Four bedraggled children surfaced coughing water, and Harry winced when he saw Neville. Poor guy didn’t need that.

Timed Quest ‘Upset a Boat’ complete.
Rewards: +1 skill point
+5 XP
Game Saved.

Just as he was getting worried, a tentacle emerged from the Lake and put the students back on top of the now overturned boat. Hermione gave a shriek of fright and clutched his hand tightly, while Zabini raised an eyebrow. Given the range of expressions Harry had seen from him so far, he was probably gibbering mentally.
Sally… Sally seemed to have fainted. Excellent.

Amusingly, the charms on the boat had held, and so despite the boat being upside down, it was still speeding towards the school. Neville – and the three girls with him, he seemed to be quite the ladies’ man – clung desperately to the wet wood.
Hagrid had yet to notice.

They had landed at the shore of the Black Lake by the time Sally woke up. She kept casting wary glances at the still waters behind them, and her paranoia infected Hermione to some degree as well as she clung to Harry’s arm the entire time.
Hagrid handed them off to Professor McGonagall with a great sense of pride, which was rather dampened when she pointed out that four of the students were sopping wet. A speech followed, which was not nearly as commanding or inspiring the second-time round – the Houses will be your family, what rot-gut rubbish – but he entertained himself by teasing Hermione discreetly.

McGonagall left the Entrance Hall, and instantly, speculations began about the much-anticipated Sorting ceremony of Hogwarts.
“My brother told me we have to wrestle a troll.” A familiar voice proclaimed loudly, before it turned uncertain. “Though I reckon he might have been taking the mickey.”

New Quest Obtained – ‘Son of a Marauder’ Timed Quest series!
Convince everyone that the Sorting involves Kneazle Herding.
Time limit: 45s
Rewards: +2 skill points
              +10 XP
              +1 CHR
Start Quest – Yes/No

The hell – Kneazle Herding? No one with an ounce of logic or common sense would ever believe- oh, right.
He accepted the mission.

“I assure you, he was.” He said drily. “Trolls are Class XXXX magical creatures and are considered dangerous for anyone other than fully trained wizards and witches to handle.”
Every eye in the chamber turned to him. “And who are you?” Ron asked roughly, looking at him with an expression remarkably similar to Malfoy’s.

Stage Fright Activated.
30s left.

“I’m Harry Potter.” He said simply.

Cue the gasps and disbelief.

“As I was saying, Hogwarts does have a unique Sorting ceremony, which is used to judge how capable the children are - without testing their magic, because most of us have yet to learn any.
You are put in a room with two Kneazles and you have to get the Kneazles into a pen. Problem is that the pen doesn’t have a door.”

15s left.

“If you fail, you aren’t allowed admission into Hogwarts. If you succeed, you are sorted into one of the four Houses on the basis of how you approached the problem.”

Cheat Code FAME unlocked! Acquaintances and lower relationships in the British magical world lose half their IQ when near you!
5s left.

“Traditionally, there are two Kneazles, one black and white male called Mrs. Norris, and one tabby female called Minerva.”

1s left.

Timed Quest ‘Kneazle Herding’ complete.
Rewards: +2 skill points
+10 XP
+1 CHR
Game Saved.

Professor McGonagall swept back into the Entrance Chamber. “Follow me.” She said crisply, and they tailed her silently into the Great Hall, each devising a stratagem to herd a duo of felines. Harry was working very hard to keep a poker face.

The doors closed silently behind them, and the Deputy Headmistress turned to face them again. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to take place.” She announced, and the soon-to-be First Year students began preparing themselves for battle in various ways. Ron started bouncing on his toes. Malfoy pressed the tips of his fingers together. Hermione detached herself from his arm to toy with the edge of her cloak nervously.

Harry twiddled his thumbs.

“When I call your name, you will come forward, and you will- ”
The First Years tensed.
“sit down on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head.”

Moment of truth.
The normal sounds of the remaining six years of Hogwarts students filled the air for a second.

Then all the First Years standing in the Great Hall of the Hogwarts Institute for Witchcraft and Wizardry lost their shit simultaneously, and it was a thing of beauty. Harry’s appreciation of this was not in the slightest diminished by his being on the receiving end of their outrage.

The rest of the Hall was now staring at them in shock and abject horror. You could practically see the murmuring thought running through the students.
‘You are First Years.’ The Crowd seemed to say. ‘Ickle firsties. You are supposed to be quiet, and awed, and gawking, not making sounds which the rest of Us are forced to hear before We have eaten Dinner.’
Their silent judgement failed to make any sort of impact on the First Years.

“What is the problem?” Snapped the Transfiguration Mistress furiously. This cowed some of the weaker students (future Hufflepuffs, no doubt), but the more vocal amongst them merely gained a new focus for their torrent.
“KneazlesPotterherdingexpelledpenKneazlesliarPotterallergic-”

And so on and so forth. Impressively, Professor McGonagall actually managed to glean some information from this tirade. She raised an imperious eyebrow.

“You say that Mr. Potter claimed to possess information about the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony, and told you that it involved herding Kneazles with your bare hands.”

Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a cricket was chirping. Harry could hear it clearly.

“And you believed him.”

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

The Professor sighed and turned to him. “Mr. Potter?” she said.
Harry stopped twiddling his thumbs and blinked guilelessly up at her. “Yes, Professor?”

“Why did your classmates believe that the Sorting involved Kneazles?”

“I couldn’t imagine, Professor.” He said innocently. She lifted her eyebrow again.

“They claim that you were responsible for communicating this belief to them.”

“Allow me to suggest, Professor, that their claim is both absurd as well as highly unrealistic.”

Though her expression was as stern as ever, her Mood now read as ‘Amused.’

“Mr. Potter, did you or did you not tell your classmates that their Sorting would take the form of a Kneazle Herding test?”

He spread his arms, the very picture of the maligned saint. “How would I know anything about the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony, Professor?”

+1 CHR
+20 Reputation with the Weasley Twins
-20 Reputation with Severus Aengus Tobias Aengus Snape

Her lips twitched. “Of course.” She said blandly, and turned away.

Next to him, Hermione was trying to simultaneously laugh and give him a disapproving glare, and seemed to be failing quite badly at the latter. Deciding to put her out of her misery, he grinned unrepentantly at her and squeezed her hand. She sighed in mock-despair, but her own smile did not fade in the slightest.

The most unusual Sorting Hogwarts had seen in centuries (since, in fact, the infamous year wherein Barnabas the Barmy was Sorted into Ravenclaw) proceeded to much muttering and curiosity from the student body. As they approached the ‘P’s, the muttering grew in both intensity and volume, until it more resembled a herd of crocodiles bellowing at each other across a swamp.

“Potter, Harry!”
Professor McGonagall’s voice cut through the din like a Basilisk through a miasma of Pygmy Puffs (‘miasma’ being the only accurate method of describing the menace posed by the animals in large numbers, according to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) – that is to say, slowly, with great irritation and deathly glares.

He strode forward, briefly noted that he would prefer to go to Gryffindor once more, and saw darkness as the brim of the over-large Hat sank over his eyes.

A grey dungeon-like room appeared in his field of vision, containing an ungated paddock and two spitting cats.

New compulsory Quest obtained!
Herd the Kneazles!
Time limit: 60s
Rewards: Get Sorted into a House.
Repercussions: Get thrown out of the Magical World and have your wand snapped.

Oh, that motherfucker.
Harry nearly growled in frustration.
He stared at the nearest cat. It was a black-and-white patched male, and seemed to hold him in a contempt slightly greater than it held the rest of the world.
Then, without warning, he flung himself at the tabby, barely managing to get a firm hold of its tail. It turned on him, scoring his hand with deep gashes, but he refused to let go.

HP – 2

He ignored the slight dip in his Health Bar, tucking the Kneazle under his arm and getting ready to hunt the other one.
Which was playing keep away on the other side of the paddock. Fuck.

Just for futility’s sake, he ran around the pen after it a few times.

30s left.

Alright, he was officially done with that plan. His left arm was beginning to throb from keeping the tabby trapped, and the blasted creature kept trying to bite him.

VIT – 1

He looked at the fence critically. It was a low fence, clearly meant to keep compliant animals – like sheep – inside, rather than cats. He backed up and took a running leap over it.

DEX check passed.

The hell-beast froze, not having expected him to take that tactic to corner it. Then he passed the next dexterity check as well and landed right in front of it.
It skidded to the side, hissing, and jumped over the fence – into the pen –  when he made to come after it. Success! He threw the other one in after it, and it landed with a thump on top of Patchy. With a harsh, barking cry, they began to mate violently in front of his (now scarred forever) eyes.

Compulsory Quest ‘Herd the Kneazles’ complete.
Rewards: You have been Sorted into…

And suddenly, he was back in the Great Hall, darkness filling his vision, while the Hat’s booming voice cried out “Gryffindor!”
The Hall erupted into cheers, and the Twins began dancing on the tabletop, chanting “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

Being Sorted into Gryffindor House has given you a new title – Gryffindor. +5 HP. -5 WIS. +10 reputation with all Gryffindors. -10 reputation with all Slytherins.
Game Saved.

Then suddenly, the world blurred, while large white letters burst into existence in a very dramatic fashion, five feet in front of him. His point of view started zooming out slowly, which proved disconcerting when he realized he could see himself sitting on the stool. Around him, everyone was frozen in various poses – Dumbledore standing and clapping, Snape scowling ominously, the Twins capering – while words slowly spelled themselves out.

HARRY POTTER: THE GAME
Tutorial complete.
The Game has begun, and the name of this Game is Life…

Game Saved.

The world resumed, and Harry made his way to the Gryffindors serenaded by deafening cheers, noting as he walked the existence of several coincidentally empty seats next to children who looked at him hopefully.
He strode past them all.

Amongst the First Years, Hermione sat alone at the corner of the table. The space on the bench next to her empty for a long way, while the First Years sitting opposite her seemed to regret their choice. She – perhaps understandably – kept sneaking hopeful glances at him out of the corner of her eye, before returning her gaze to her book bag.

Nice Guy Activated.
Lecherous Activated.

He slid into the seat directly beside her and smiled as she looked up, startled. “Good evening, Hermione.” He said, his smile widening as she blushed. “May I have the honor of joining you as we dine tonight?”
“Wh- I mean, of course, do.” She babbled, sliding her book bag to the floor. Her fingers immediately started toying with the hem of her cloak, the threads at that particular corner already fraying. He remembered her doing the same in the Entrance Chamber, though he never recalled her having that particular nervous habit before.

Little changes- oh, little changes meant to catch my eye and captivate; and I, foolishly, was caught.
Do not pity me, no, no. I should have known better.
I should have known better.

A hand covering hers stilled the motion immediately and she froze, amber eyes flicking between their hands and his face as crimson bloomed in her cheeks again. He smiled gently and removed his hand, turning instead to look at the rest of their First Year Housemates.

“Well, we may as well get started with the introductions. Alphabetically, Ms. Brown, I believe you come first. We could share our names and the reason the Hat sorted us into Gryffindor.”

“Yes, Professor.” She chanted, sing-song, before grinning. “Hi, I’m Lavender Brown – and please, Harry, just Lavender, why on earth would you call me Ms. Brown – and the Hat said that my personality could only ever fit in the House of the Bold.”

Harry tilted his head. “If you were to give your first name to all of your acquaintances, what would your friends know you as?” he countered.
“Lav.” She said firmly. “So you call me Lavender.”
“Ms. Brown, I-“
“Lavender.” She insisted. “Lav-end-er. Lavender. It’s not difficult.”
His shoulder slumped. “Of course, Lavender. Ms. D’Andre?”

The black-skinned girl spoke so softly one could barely hear her at all. “Good evening. My name is Kellah D’Andre, but all of you can call me Kellah. I was put in Gryffindor because the Hat said I have a lot of hidden courage.”
“Thank you…” he froze at a glare from Lavender. “Kellah. Next would be Ms. Dunbar?”

Lavender snapped her fingers and interrupted. “That’s it. Everyone in favor of Harry Potter only being allowed to use first names, raise your hand!”
Every single Gryffindor First Year so far raised his or her hand, and Harry turned betrayed eyes on Hermione. She shrugged.

“Very well. Ummm… Fay?”

“Fay Dunbar, as Harry has already said. Gryffindor was really the only option for me – I barely wore the Hat for a second before it shoved me off here. And Harry, may I just say that the charade you enacted before our Sorting was gorgeous.”
Dean, just having reached the table, spluttered incoherently. “How was that gorgeous?” he demanded. “It was bloody insane was what it was!”

Fay looked shocked. “Didn’t you see it?” she asked rhetorically. “The way he completely convinced every fucking one of us, and then got away with it in front of the Deputy Headmistress…” She sighed theatrically. “I think I’m in love.”
Fay had the makings of a fine actress indeed, mused Harry, feeling Hermione tense slightly next to him. “I’m pretty sure Professor McGonagall was quite amused by the deception.” He said, then paused.
“And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fay let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Hey, I’m Seamus Finnegan. I’m in Gryffindor because I’m Irish.”
Everyone stared at him for a moment. Fay shrugged. “Fair enough.” She said.

Harry rested a hand on Hermione’s thigh as her turn came around. She blushed slightly and took a deep breath.
“Hello, my name’s Hermione Granger.” She said, clearly trying to portray herself as confident. Unfortunately, she was not quite as good an actor as Fay. “The Hat really was going to put me into Ravenclaw, because I’m smart and admire knowledge and want to learn everything I can, but I thought that I can do that in Gryffindor too and I really wanted to come here because apparently Headmaster Dumbledore and so many other great wizards came from Gryffindor and there had to be a reason, so I argued with it until it let me go where I wanted to.”

She started breathing again, and Harry comfortingly rubbed small circles on her knee. Her ability to say everything she wanted to in a single breath was frankly scary.
“I didn’t know you could argue with the Hat.” Parvati said curiously. “I would have tried harder to become a Raven otherwise.”

A long moment of contemplation at this blatant House treachery followed. “Neville, you’re up.” Harry prodded.
“H-hey, I’m Neville.” The plump boy stammered. “I’m actually not sure w-why the Hat put me into Gryffindor, because I didn’t think I’d g-get in.”
The look on several of the student’s faces suggested they agreed, and Parvati started speaking before he felt the need to go on. “I’m Parvati Patil, and before you ask, yes, I’m Indian.” She said, shooting a look at Fay. Harry wasn’t sure why she looked at Dunbar specifically, but her mood read as ‘Annoyed, Irritable, Pissed’, so he wasn’t about to ask. “I actually was hoping for Ravenclaw because my twin went there right before me.”

And then every single eye at the whole table swiveled to stare unabashedly at Harry, while their moods flicked to ‘Curious’ in a bizarre form of synchronization.

Stage Fright Activated.

He grinned self-consciously. “Good evening. My name is Harry Potter, and I am best known for making it to my second birthday.” He paused and decided to feed them the details of his first Sorting. The Kneazle Herding would not go over well.
“I’m too stupid to be in Ravenclaw and too lazy to be a ‘Puff. The Hat said I could go to either Slytherin or Gryffindor-”
Outraged muttering cut him off before he could get any further, the Wizard-Raised students explaining to the Muggle-Borns why this was so big of a deal. The explanation probably went something like ‘Slytherins are Evil. Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter cannot be Evil. This is a Paradox.’

“The Hat said I could go to either Slytherin or Gryffindor,” he repeated firmly. “But seven years with Draco Malfoy or seven years in the lovely company of Hermione here wasn’t really much of a choice.”
The eyes gazed at him for a moment longer, before turning to stare at the brunette at his side. She froze, wide-eyed, and dug her nails into Harry’s hand. Fuck, that hurt.

HP – 1

Wow, Hermione had long nails. It was probably an unconscious reflex though, so he let it be.

“Zabini, Blaise!” called Professor McGonagall, and Harry realized that the Feast was about to begin. The chances of introductions being carried on alongside the food were not just negligible, they were non-existent.
“Oh, I’ll hurry it up. That’s Dean Thomas, the redhead joining us now is Ronald Weasley, and… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
He vaguely recalled the girl as looking familiar, but any details about her eluded him. She opened her mouth to respond.
“Her name’s Emma Vane.” Said Hermione, speaking before the girl could introduce herself. Harry blinked, slightly impressed even knowing just how brilliant Hermione’s memory was.

At the Head Table, Albus Dumbledore stood, the sheer majesty of his personality causing the Hall to fall silent immediately. Harry switched his gaze to the Headmaster and his jaw dropped – actually, physically, dropped – in shock.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Level 638
Relationship: Headmaster
Reputation: +850
Mood: Delighted, Expectant, Worried.

Level six hundred thirty-eight. Six hundred and thirty fucking eight. Levels went that high?!

“Welcome!” said Albus Dumbledore, the man who was at Level Six Hundred and Thirty-Eight. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are:”
Harry grinned, preparing himself to fully enjoy the reaction of the rest of the Hall.

“Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

WIS +1

And Harry, for the second time in as many minutes, went slack-jawed, along with the rest of the school. Even the other professors were looking at the Headmaster oddly. He did not, however, seem very concerned.
"Thank you!"  

The Start-of-the-Term Feast, also known as the Hogwarts Sorting Feast or the Welcoming Feast, was widely recognized as one of the most impressive displays of culinary skill in the Magical World, with over a hundred House-Elf chefs make liberal use of Preservation Charms to prepare a gastronomical marvel over the course of a week. Every year, four entirely new dishes were prepared for this feast – the most infamous including Honey-Glazed Acromantula and Ink in its own Giant Squid. To accord this Ceremony – which could, in a moment of stupendous understatement, be called a ‘meal’ – anything less than one’s complete, undivided and enraptured attention was an insult which had once provoked the First (and Only) House Elf Rebellion of 1751 (which was, on a possibly related note, the year that Barnabas the Barmy was Sorted into Hogwarts).

A great many crimes were committed against House-Elves on a daily basis, ranging from brutal abuse (Case in Point: the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy) to verbal assault and denigration (Case in Point: every magical being, ever), but no one had since been foolish enough to slight the Hogwarts Sorting Feast. Harry Potter, in an act of death-defying, belief-beggaring courage that surpassed all previous acts of valor, was doing it now.

To elucidate, Harry Potter was toying absently with a bowl of lemon rice while gauging, through the means of floating Game text, just how advanced the Hogwarts Professors were.

His companions saw none of this. His companions merely saw that he seemed disinterested at best in the food. There were those among his companions who had responsible, caring, Magical parents – in this case, parents who took it upon themselves to enlighten their spawn of the glorious and terrible events of the year 1751 – and Gryffindors though they were, those selfsame companions were edging away from their – ignorant or insane, but definitely doomed – Housefellow.

Every minute that Harry continued to live furthered the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived tenfold among the students. There would, one could imagine, be bards one day who would sing of this night, of this deed that was second to none in all of Wizarding History.

Minerva McGonagall – Level 91
Relationship: Professor, Head of House, Deputy Headmistress
Reputation: +307
Attractiveness: 23
Mood: Anxious, Watchful

Level 91 wasn’t bad in the slightest, but seemed insignificant in comparison to the level of the white-bearded old wizard she was seated next to. Like Dumbledore, she too was nervous about something, but that was easily explained if she knew Quirrell was working for Voldemort. Harry doubted that she knew Voldemort was living under a turban, however. Had that been the case, ‘Anxious’ would not have been quite the right word to describe her mental state.

Filius Flitwick – Level 148
Relationship: Professor
Reputation: +265
Mood: Cheerful

It would seem that being a former Duelling Champion had its benefits. Professor Flitwick, at least, was unaware of any subterfuge on the part of Professor Quirrell.

Severus Aengus Tobias Snape – Level 301
Relationship: Professor
Reputation: -120
Mood: Dour, Wary, Watchful.

In any other circumstance, Level 301 would have registered as impressive, and would have led Harry to conclude that he had been severely underestimating his Potions Professor. Unfortunately, he had gotten diverted rather earlier than that.
Severus Aengus Tobias Snape.
Severus Aengus Tobias Snape.
Aengus.
Oh Merlin, he was going to die at the Hogwarts Sorting Feast, and he was going to die laughing.

Just as he thought he had gotten his laughter stifled, he glimpsed the text again and snorted audibly.
Aengus.

Quirinus Quirrell – Level 73 / Tom Marvolo Riddle – Level 626 / ???
Relationship: Professor / Fated Foe / ???
Reputation: - 290 / -1000 / ???
Mood: Terrified / Triumphant, Calculating / ???

That… that bothered him. Unless he was mistaken, it was suggesting that there was a third being in that body, along with Quirrell and Voldemort. He sincerely hoped it was just Quirrell hiding a Horcrux beneath his robes or something, because nothing that he could think of came even close to a reasonable explanation.
Another noteworthy point was that Voldemort was actually lower in level than the Headmaster. Somehow, he had always imagined the Dark Lord being magically more powerful than Dumbledore, and definitely physically fitter, which should have put him at a clear advantage.
Unless Voldemort’s current, weakened state was reflecting itself in his level, and even as a wraith on the back of a head, he was nearly 600 levels above Harry. And wasn’t that a chilling thought.

He blinked, and noticed suddenly that Fay was staring at him in horrified fascination. Her mood, for some reason, read simply as ‘Terror, Wow’.
“Anything the matter, Fay?” he asked, and she swallowed.
“Are you not feeling very hungry, Harry?” she asked. “Maybe you’re not well?” Something in her tone nearly felt like she was hoping Harry was sick.
“Oh no, the food is great. It’s just…” he waved a spoon descriptively. “Everything here is so much more important than food.”

Just like that, every eye within earshot of Harry that knew anything of Wizarding History leapt out of its eye socket and pointed itself straight at Harry.

Stage Fright Activated.

After staring at him for a long moment, the students in the Great Hall reached a conclusion. Harry was alive and unmolested. The Great Hall was not a pile of rubble. Ruin, devastation and misery had not been rained down upon the peoples of Great Britain like Sulphur and Fiery Brimstone from the Skies.

Blink. Pause. Blink.

And an outpouring of chattering filled the cool air as people sought to explain this phenomenon with increasingly-fantastical theories. If awe were a physical substance, Harry would have been doing the backstroke in it. If he knew how to do the backstroke, that is.

Unknown to the students of Hogwarts, there was a simple, twofold explanation to Harry’s seeming immunity to the ‘You-Must-Appreciate-This-Sorting-Feast-No-Exceptions-Ever’ rule of the House Elves. Firstly, Albus Dumbledore had bargained with the Elves to only take vengeance upon the one who had slighted them, not the entire species. Secondly, being Harry Potter – or, more accurately, being the one to rid the world, at least temporarily, of You-Know-Who – had earnt Harry a near-limitless supply of forgiveness from House-Elves across the length and breadth of the world’s second-smallest continent.
There was also a third reason, but it does not do to give away useful plot devices too early into the story.

Much to the relief of his Housemates, Harry chose to spend the rest of the Sorting Feast focused on the culinary efforts of the Hogwarts House Elves. What little time he spent on efforts not related to food was that in which he sought to forge a better bond with the Gryffindor First Years – or in his case, increase his Reputation with them. This prove to be an insultingly simple task, which Harry attributed to the instinctive naïveté of eleven-year-olds, along with the fact that he held ‘the Boy-Who-Lived’ as one of his titles. Of the famed events of 1751 and their repercussions, he knew nothing.

Ignorance is often fatal, but sometimes it can also be bliss.

Albus Dumbledore, the man at Level 638, stood. The food disappeared and all eyes turned to him. He beamed.
“Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

The Headmaster’s glance in the direction of the Weasley Twins was anything but subtle. The Twin’s return glance was an equal mixture of innocence and ‘We regret nothing’.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

No one, not even the Twins, laughed. Headmaster Dumbledore’s reputation for sheer insane preceded him in the Magical World. Harry also noted that his worried state remained unchanged.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the School Song!”

New Quest Obtained – ‘Son of a Marauder’ Timed Quest series!
Sing the Hogwarts School Song as a fast rap.
Time limit: 45s
Rewards: +1 skill points
              +5 XP
Start Quest – Yes/No

“Oh, hell no!” he snapped. There was a limit to which he was willing to whore himself out for XP, and this was so far beyond it that it had reached a different time zone.
The School Song was as painful as he remembered, and even the valiant efforts of the Weasley Twins were insufficient to make it bearable. Harry wondered which one of the Founders had written the School Song – and, for that matter, which one of them gave the school its name.

The moment he left the Great Hall, disaster struck.

Hidden Quest ‘Do Diddle like Tom Riddle’ complete. Due to the similarities of your behavior with how Tom Marvolo Riddle acted on his first day at Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore now suspects that the former Horcrux in your scar may be influencing you.
Reward: -50 Reputation with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Game Saved.

Holy fuck in a basket of fuck!

He wasn’t too badly off, and he was fairly certain that he could make up the Reputation lost. He was slightly more concerned, however, with the parallels between his behavior and Riddle’s. The Headmaster might believe that the Horcrux was affecting his behavior, but he knew it was not, and so could only conclude that the similarities between his own character and Tom’s were more pronounced than he wanted to admit.

He spent the rest of the trip to the Gryffindor Tower silently contemplating this unwelcome epiphany, and nearly missed the Password while doing so (Caput Draconis, the Game recognized, and mentioned that it was now added to his Inventory. Just how, he was unsure.)

“Aren’t you joining us, Hermione?” he asked, gesturing to the couches as his companion moved to go to the girl’s dorms.
“It’s alright.” She said softly, her hands trembling by her side, and it was pathetically obvious that it was not alright. “You can hang out with t-the cool guys if you want to.”

Harry blinked. Her self-confidence really needed some work, if she thought Harry was going to abandon her just because he was talking to other people at dinner. On the other hand, it was also kind of cute.

Lecherous Activated.
Nice Guy Activated.

He curled an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. Her breath caught, and she glanced up at him hopefully.
“You may not have noticed yet, Hermione,” he said, leading her to an armchair as she snuggled discreetly into his side, her admittedly over-large front teeth on open display.
“But I am the cool guy.”

OMAKE: Harry deliberately throws the Sorting.

New compulsory Quest obtained!
Herd the Kneazles!
Time limit: 60s
Rewards: Get Sorted into a House.
Repercussions: Get thrown out of the Magical World and have your wand snapped.

Oh, fuck that. Let the Magical World throw him out. There was no way in a cold, cold Hell he was going to let them yank him around on puppet strings, even if he wasn’t quite clear on who ‘them’ referred to.
He settled down to wait.

30s left.

He had started a staring contest with the tabby. He was not going to let it win. The urge to blink was intense, but he was the master of his own eyelids.

15s left.

He narrowed his eyes. The Devil-Kneazle would soon see that he was not an enemy to be trifled with.

5s left.

He could not lose!

4s left.

He would prevail!

3s left.

He was Harry James Potter, and gods-be-damned, but he was not going to be cowed by a measly cat!

2s left.

Victory was close. He could scent it now.

1s left.

The tabby walked over to the other Kneazle and began to furiously rut with it – all without breaking eye contact. Harry flinched away, horrified, and blinked in the process.

That sorry excuse for a prawn’s anus! It cheated!

Compulsory Quest ‘Herd the Kneazles’ failed.
Repercussions: You are to be thrown out of the Magical World with your wand snapped.

And then he was back in the Great Hall, dead silence filling every corner of it. “Could you repeat that, Sorting Hat?” asked McGonagall, sounding like she was about to cough up a hairball.
“He can’t be Sorted!” insisted the Hat. “He doesn’t belong in the Magical World.”

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter
Origin: Dursley’s
D.O.B: 31 July 1980
Gender: Male
Level: 30 [+ 135 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1. ADVANTAGES:
      1. Hero’s Complex: Try to save as many people as you possibly can and take the burden of saving them upon yourself. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even if they sometimes don’t deserve it. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: Cannot be tempted or controlled by artificial means such as Imperius, Allure, compulsions, etc. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: Be fast… almost uncannily fast. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Temporary -5 to Wisdom when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
      
      
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   40
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   36
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 59+5 =       64
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   56
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   33
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] :    88
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    63
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     60
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    4
      
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.
      
      1. Potioneering: Level 1 – 0%
   2. Flirting: Lvl 100
      Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.
      
   3. Waiter: Lvl 100
      Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.
      
   4. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!
      
      1. Herbology: Level 1 – 0%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
   6. Kissing: Lvl 100
      You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.
   7. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
   8. Fucking: Lvl 25 – 30%
   9. Wandcrafting: Lvl 1 – 0%
      
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
   4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities/Deities to the Waiting Room, ???
   5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.
   6. Gryffindor: +5 HP. -5 WIS. +10 reputation with all Gryffindors. -10 reputation with all Slytherins.
      
      
5. Unlocked Cheat Codes:
   1. FAME

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -205
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36
Relationship: Best Friend
Reputation: +870
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15
Relationship: Lover
Reputation: +1000
Attractiveness: 16
Mood: ???

Hermione Granger – Level 18
Relationship: Friend-With-A-Crush
Reputation: +380
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: ???

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Level 638
Relationship: Headmaster
Reputation: +800
Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 380 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.
4. 9138 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 1 Knut
5. Standard Hogwarts armor robes x 3
6. Book x 187
7. Standard Hogwarts Potions Kit
8. Owl Treats
9. Tough Dragonhide Hand Armor
10. Telescope Set
11. Writing Set x 2

Quests

1. Make the Dursleys like you, ???
   Rewards: +30 skill points
                 +100 XP
                 ???
   
   
2. Complete The Sheets
   Rewards: +20 skill points
                 + 800 XP
   
   
3. Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.
   Rewards: +100 skill points
                 +500 XP

Post Owl – Hedwig: Delivers Post

1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage it can take.] :     20
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic it can use.] :     5
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents its speed at running and dodging.] :     41
4. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly it can learn.] :         15
5. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work it can undertake.] :          21
6. VIT: [Vitality represents how long it can undertake physical activity.] :           27

Companions can be summoned to the side of the Gamer whenever required. The Gamer is responsible for allocating status points of the Companion.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Harry James Potter.” Said the Builder (and as Harry gazed upon It, whispers of unease skittered in the corners of his mind like rats in the dark.)
“Morning?” he said, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Semantics.” It said. “I am afraid to inform you that so far, you have done nothing that seems to be remotely connected to being the MasterAboveDeath. We shall, I believe, wait and see.
There are also some more changes to the Game, which are due since the Tutorial is complete. You shall discover them when you wake up.”

“Hmmm, yeah.” He snapped, nonplussed. “What Merlin-be-fucked Tutorial?”
The Builder did not bat an eye, seemingly expecting his reaction. “Yes, until now you were playing an easier version of the Game, with correspondingly fewer rewards. The Game shall now be more difficult, with more quests and opportunities, and with no Hints.”

Harry vaguely registered that his mandible had succumbed to gravity, but payed it no mind.

“Hints?” he asked dumbly. “I never got any Hints!”

“You never did ask for them.”

His eye twitched.

“Any other minor changes that I should know about?” he asked, his voice dryer than the sands of Raraku. The Builder tilted Its head.

“I feel I must inform you that after using the Save-and-Load feature, your statistics will reset to what they were at the time you Saved the Game. You will no longer be able to use it to indiscriminately increase your skill points or your Levels. Any progress made will be lost – the only thing retained will be information.”

Damn, that was a blow. He had planned on using that feature to read the entire Unrestricted Section of the Hogwarts Library in a single night.
Then to learn and perform every spell in it.

This was going to be one hard slog.

“Anything else?” he asked irritably. The Builder regarded him evenly.
“Nothing of any importance, Harry Potter.” It said.
The world dissolved.

You have rested in your bed. HP, MP and VIT restored to full.

Waking up, Harry sighed and snuggled deeper into his pillow, tension seeping from his frame. It was good to be surrounded by red and gold again, with the roaring lion splayed across his curtains. This had been his bed for seven years – even if he had only been able to use it for six – and it seemed that it would be his for seven more.
He swore that this time he would manage to bring a girl in here.

Nothing much had changed overnight, except for the ‘Ver. 1.1.1 – Beta’ across the top. He looked around for his watch – mechanical, of course – and cast a jaundiced eye on it. Five-thirty in the morning was far too early, and of course it was a Monday. He swung himself out of bed, flinching when a blast of cold air hit him. None of the other first-year Gryffindors were up yet, and even the sun was only barely deigning to show its face.

The first pit stop would have to be the Library. He had a great deal of knowledge about the future and absolutely no way to use it unless he regained – and bettered – his proficiency with magic. Thus decided, he descended the stairs, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself as a frigid gust of wind blew from some unimaginable corner of the castle. Every corridor he came upon was deserted, with not even Mrs. Norris braving the icy stone floors.
Harry Potter, being a stubborn-arsed blockhead, was doing that very thing.

The Library was open, as it was always open – even as the Battle raged, its doors had been flung wide – and Madame Pince sat at her desk reading a dusty tome. Her eyes darted towards Harry as he stepped into her sanctum, and she glared at him down her vulture-like nose.
“Well!” she said waspishly. “What do you want?”

Lecherous activated.

Yep, she seemed just about as pleasant as he remembered. He was profoundly grateful that her attractiveness was low enough to be negligible. “I was looking for some Potions books, Madame.”
He had already read his school textbooks cover-to-cover and had gone through most of the books he had bought from Flourish and Blotts. The Hogwarts Library, however, was unparalleled in its store of rare and informative books, even outside of the Restricted Section. He had a period with Snape after lunch that day, after all – it was best to be prepared.

She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You are not allowed to enter the Restricted Section.” She declared. “You are also not allowed to eat, drink, talk, whisper or laugh in the Library.” She stood up suddenly, striving perhaps to loom over Harry. “If you leave a mark on a book – any mark at all – you will never be allowed to enter the Library again.”

Two minutes later, he was ensconced in one of the standard uncomfortable chairs found in the Library, surrounded by stacks of Potions books as tall as he was. For the next two hours, the only sound he made was the rustle of pages, and the occasional thump as he finished a book and moved on to another.
His own concentration, however, was frequently disturbed by the piano-chime messages of the Game.

INT +1
Potioneering +10%. Potioneering now at level 3.

Madame Pince appeared in front of him, so suddenly he would have thought she had apparated, except that (‘Honestly! You can’t Apparate within Hogwarts. Hasn’t anyone here read ‘Hogwarts: A History’?’).
“It is time for breakfast.” She said coldly. “Students are not allowed to be in the Library during mealtimes.”

Lecherous activated.

Harry looked around bemusedly at the piles of tomes that nearly hid him from view, and began the task of setting them back in their respective places, all too aware of the librarian scrutinizing his every move with a glittering gimlet eye.
“How many books can I issue, Madame?” he asked, and her disapproving frown deepened for an instant. Harry was reminded of how greatly she disliked allowing books to leave the safety of her domain in the grubby hands of students. 

“First Years can issue one book at a time.” She said shortly. “Any book you issue must be returned within a fortnight.”

He left the Library empty-handed, not seeing the need to issue a book and possibly incur the wrath of the Book-Dragon were anything to happen to it.

More than half of Hogwarts was already having breakfast by the time he reached the Great Hall, and he hurried to the Gryffindor table when he realized he only had fifteen minutes before the first class.
Hermione, who had been despondently poking at her food, brightened considerably when he sat down next to her. She smiled brilliantly at him. “Good morning, Harry!” she chirped happily, as he quickly loaded his plate with the nearest dishes.

Lecherous activated.

“Good morning, my Hermione.” He said, offering her a small smile. A tinge of pink had touched her cheeks at his possessive endearment. “How are you this fine morning?”
“Hogwarts is so wonderful!” she enthused, bouncing in her seat. “I woke up at six-thirty and couldn’t sleep again. Learning magic is going to be so much fun!”
Her mood dropped suddenly, a tinge of sadness entering her voice. “I didn’t see you in the morning. Where were you?”

“Oh, you know, I decided to spend some time in the Library. I’ve been in there for two hours.”

At the time Harry made this statement, there were eighty-nine students studying in the Gryffindor House of Hogwarts. Of these, there were (through an oddity of the type peculiar to Merlinian magic, especially when practiced by witches who had not properly woken up) forty-two and three-seventh students seated at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. These statistics may seem irrelevant to the highest degree, but they are necessary if one seeks to explain why, when Harry Potter made this outrageous statement, eighty-two and six-seventh eyes turned to goggle at him in dumbfounded horror.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she had found her soulmate and never planned to leave him.

“Harry,” said a highly familiar redhead.
“My dear, dear, Harry,” said another redhead, just as familiar as the first, which was a given since they were absolutely fucking identical.
“We understand you do great things.”
“We often partake in such splendid activities ourselves.”
“And your bluffing in front of the entire Great Hall,”
“Superb, my fine fellow, superb.”
“But none of that is a reasonable excuse-”
“Keeping in mind, of course, that for this, no excuse could be reasonable enough-”
“For you to spend two hours in the Library,”
“On the first day of school,”
“Before breakfast.” They chorused together.

There was a moment of respectful silence for this masterful work of oration, before Hermione leaned over and whispered uncertainly. “There’s two of him.”
“Yes.” He said distractedly, staring at the text over their heads. “It’s quite fascinating, isn’t it? Ah, morning, Fay. Here, meet these twins.” You seem to deserve each other.

It was, he mused, most interesting text – he had never seen any quite like it, nor did he imagine he ever would. He was intensely curious as to how this happened, what the Marauder’s Map said, and what would happen if you separated them.

Fred and George Weasley’s – Levels 26
Relationships: Acquaintances
Reputations: +170
Moods: Pranking

He had never before known that pranking was a mood, he thought, as he stared at the single paragraph of text that was shared between the two of them. That mood had apparently also spread to Fay.
He then realized that he had the lesser part of six minutes before his Magical Theory class, and started shoveling down food like a python trying to imitate Ronald Weasley.

Magical theory was as boring as he remembered it to be. It should have been an awesome class, filled with explanations of how magic worked and why they did the things they did. Then again, History of Magic should have been an awesome class, filled with recitals of long-waged and bloody wars between the wizards and the goblins, with heroes emerging on both sides. Instead, they had Binns.
Seriously, if it weren’t for the INT gain, he would simply skip half the classes. Self-study was better than this.

They were approaching the Transfiguration classroom, and Hermione was jabbering on about how every-freaking-thing they were learning was the best thing ever – tuning Hermione out was like riding a bicycle, and was a skill often called upon in her company – when Harry got an idea. And that idea led to a quest.

New Quest Obtained – ‘Son of a Marauder’ Timed Quest series!
Prank Minerva McGonagall
Time limit: 60s
Rewards: +1 skill point
              +5 XP
              +1 CHR
Start Quest – Yes/No

He grinned. This was going to be fun. “Yes.”
He spun around and faced the crowd that was behind them – First Year Lions and Badgers, perfect. “Alright, does anyone remember what I said about the Sorting Ceremony?”
He was shot no less than eight dirty looks – nine if Amanda was glaring and didn’t just have a bit of dust in her eye.
“You said we had to catch cats.” Amanda spat. It looked like she was mad.
“Kneazles, actually, but close enough.” Harry agreed. “Does anyone remember what Kneazles I said specifically?”

45s left.

Hermione frowned in thought as her impressive (if not quite eidetic) memory came into play. “A black-and-white male called Mrs. Norris, and a tabby female called Minerva, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Harry smiled and swept down the corridor.

30s left.

There was something glorious about walking into a classroom with a score of students following you, and hearing each and every one of them stop in their tracks as they stared at the tabby cat sitting on the desk.

Timed Quest ‘Prank McGonagall’ complete.
Rewards: +1 skill points
               +5 XP
              +1 CHR
Game Saved.

The cat sat there rigidly as students filed in one by one, and with each addition, the myth of Harry Potter’s omniscience grew just a fraction. They glanced at him surreptitiously; well, surreptitiously for eleven-year-olds, although it really wasn’t discreet in the slightest. As the latecomers came running in – namely, a panting Ron Weasley – the cat jumped off the desk and dramatically transformed into a Transfiguration Mistress.
“Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley.” She said. “Perhaps I should Transfigure you into a clock to ensure you will reach my class on time.”

As the redhead sheepishly took his seat, Professor McGonagall let her gaze wander between the goggling students, before she sighed. “Mr. Potter.” She said tiredly. “What have you done now?”

“Me, Professor McGonagall?” asked Harry in mock-surprise. “Why would you think that I have done anything at all?”

The Professor fixed him with a piercing look. “I have been teaching students for over forty years, Mr. Potter.” She said crisply. “Let us call it a sixth sense.”

“I am hurt, Professor – nay, wounded – by your instinctive mistrust of my fine person, and-”

“Very well, Mr. Potter.” She interrupted, while Fay seemed to be having some sort of fit in the back. “Let us instead call it the fact that I also taught your father when he was at Hogwarts.” She sighed. “And much like your father, I am unlikely to ever prove that you were responsible, so let us move on.
Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Dear Jo,

How is life at Stonewall High? I hope you and Di have made some new friends – maybe you should try and join a writing club at school. You would be great there, I’m sure.
Hogwarts has been nice so far, but I wish that you could come here and see it. The school is actually a castle which used to be a fortress, so there many secret passageways and entrances. I’ve only been here a day and I’ve already found a few. The school has all kinds of weird creatures like ghosts and House-Elves and centaurs (although the centaurs aren’t really creatures, they’re smarter than humans).
If you really want to learn magic, you should take up Latin as a language course, and start reading about old myths and legends like sphinxes and stuff. Apparently, they all exist.
I hope your mother’s flu has gotten better. If it hasn’t, you should probably see about getting a doctor to have a look at her.
Oh, and the owl’s name is Hedwig – they’re the magical method of delivering post. She likes bacon rinds. I’ve told her to wait for a reply.

Missing you,
Harry.

Hermione watched Harry write to Joanne in the middle of lunch. “I should probably write to my parents too.” She admitted. “Can I borrow your owl after classes are over?”
Harry rolled up his parchment and grinned at her. “Of course, Hermione.” He said. “You need only to ask.”

Harry then stopped, as he realized that summoning Hedwig in the middle of the Great Hall might lead to some interesting reactions, depending on what people saw.

WIS check passed.

“Save Game.” He said.

Game Saved.

He took a deep breath and tried to remember the command words he had to use to summon Hedwig… only to realize he had received none.
“Goddamnit!” he swore under his breath. Hermione hissed sharply next to him.

“Language, Harry!”

“Hedwig…” he said. “I want to deliver a letter… call Hedwig… summon Companion…” he continued, now gaining odd looks from the rest of the table. “Summon owl… summon Hedwig- yes!”
His beloved snowy owl had appeared in front of him with a cello soundtrack, and no one had looked at him twice. Well, beyond what they were already doing.

“Hey girl. Do you mind taking a letter to Jo for me?”

Preck.

“No, that was her sister.”

Bark.

“Great! Could you wait there for a reply? You’re the best, Hedwig.”

Snuffle.

Was it the Snape who made the dungeon, Harry mused, or the dungeon who made the Snape?

The dungeons of Hogwarts truly were the perfect place for a bitter, acerbic potions master – cold and dark with winds that howled in the corridors, the torches revealing only enough that one could fear the shadows. If Snape had spent much of his childhood at Hogwarts down in a place like this, Harry could honestly claim to be unsurprised that he turned out as… Snape, as he did.
On the other hand, if he was always that way, and merely remodeled the dungeons to match his mood, well then… Harry would still not be surprised.

The door slammed open and the potions master himself strode in, robes billowing and eyes gleaming as he began his class before the door had swung shut.

“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I do not expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making.
However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…”

He let his words trail off as he surveyed the classroom, but Harry knew it was all a farce, that this whole while it had just been about him, about Harry Potter and the grudge Snape bore against his father.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape said sharply, as if the man had only just noticed him. “Our new... celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

New Quest Obtained!
Pass Severus Aengus Tobias Snape’s test.
Time limit: 60s
Rewards: +1 skill point
              +5 XP
              +1 CHR
              +220 reputation with Severus Aengus Tobias Snape.
Start Quest – Yes/No

“Yes.” Said Harry, whispering out of sheer habit (10 points from Gryffindor for shouting in class, Potter!).
“You would get a powerful tranquillizer called the Draught of Living Death, sir.” He said. This was the first change he would be making, the first big one, the first one that could potentially bring Voldemort – and with him, the War – to his fucking knees.

Quest failed!
-220 reputation with Severus Aengus Tobias Snape.

Snape’s eyes merely glared hatefully into Harry’s shocked ones, before he turned on his heel and swept to the other side of the classroom.

Harry answered the rest of the questions mechanically.

“Professor Snape seems like a very… intense person.” Hermione offered when the class was dismissed, her instinctive respect for authority clashing with the fact that Snape had been only slightly more pleasant than a hungry Piasa.
“Intense?” said Harry, his strides lengthening. “Yes, I suppose ‘intense’ would be one way to describe him.” His gaze was far, far away; his memory – eidetic, thanks to the mechanics of the Game – going over every scrap of Potion’s text he had ever read.

Powdered root of asphodel to infusion of wormwood, he thought, blissfully unaware he was muttering under his breath. Where, which potions – the Potions Almanack, the Quinsbury Guide to Brewing, Advanced Potion Making, The Art of Potioneering – no no no no no, they all say the Draught of Living Death. None of the books in the Unrestricted Section, nothing there; if I could get my hands on Moste Potente Potions, maybe…

“Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry!”

He jumped when something touched his shoulder, automatically going for his sleeve where he had tucked his wand (Better men than you have lost buttocks that way, boy!). His hand was already resting at his attacker’s throat, a Disarming Charm on the tip of his tongue, before he realized it was Hermione – eleven years old and innocent and curious and brash and unafraid, surprised and not scared that he had his wand drawn.

Godsdamnitall, there’s no war. He thought tiredly. The war’s over – hell, forget over, it hasn’t even begun yet. I ended it and restarted the fucking clock!
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, panting (‘we’, not ‘you’, but Harry noticed nothing). “And do we have to go there so fast?”

“In the beginning of the class, Professor Snape asked me a question.” He said softly. “Powdered root of asphodel and infusion of wormwood. He considered my answer incorrect, and I need to know why.”
“I don’t think Professor Snape likes you very much, Harry.”
Harry shook his head.
“No, he doesn’t, but this was a test.” He was nearly snarling now, and Hermione was watching him worriedly as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “This was a test set for me alone and I failed because I was wrong and WHAT’D I MISS?” He shouted, grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

“I-I don’t know…” she said weakly. “Harry, are you…”
He blinked and realized he had Hermione pressed against a wall, his hands white on collar bone.
“Ceridwen’s cauldron, Hermione, I’m sorry.” He said, stepping back with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry.”
She smiled uncomfortably. “It’s all right.” She said, rolling her shoulders – she would probably have bruises there the next morning.

“To the Library?”
She grinned brightly. “To the Library!”

“What do you need?” Madame Pince asked sharply, while Hermione looked to be melting into a happy puddle as she saw the Hogwarts Library.

“Every unrestricted book that has the words ‘wormwood’ and ‘asphodel’ in it.” Harry said, as Hermione just sighed blissfully. The librarian’s brows knitted together in a frown.

“Every book?” she asked, clearly unhappy with aiding them have access to that many texts. Harry nodded.
“Every book.”

CHR check passed.

Madame Pince went to her desk and tapped at a parchment with her wand. It glowed yellow, and she strode past them towards the center of the Library. They followed, only to see thousands of books floating from various bookshelves onto the largest table and arranging themselves neatly into stacks.
“Seventeen books that you want have already been issued.” Said the librarian coldly. “You may view them in a fortnight.” Her tone made very clear that they should do nothing of the sort.

The two First-Years dived into the sea of books.

Daylight crept and faded, so that only the torches gave light. It was a difficult task, searching a book cover-to-cover just to find two words used in conjunction, and not one made easier when multiplied by a thousand.
“I got something!” Hermione exclaimed. “A potion called ‘Kingsleep’ that uses ‘ground asphodel root in wormwood extract’ and puts the recipient to… oh, it’s just another name for the Draught.”
“Put it on the pile.” Harry muttered, rubbing at his eyes. Only a handful of scattered books were left to read – in a little under five hours the two of them had read more than a thousand potions and magical theory books each and found no other reference to a combination of asphodel and wormwood other than the Draught of Living Death.
On a more positive note, Harry had learnt more about potions and magical theory in one day than he had learnt in seven previous years of schooling. He had even found one book about wand lore that he had wasted half an hour reading.

He yawned and picked up the next book, then blinked. “Seriously?” he wondered. Hermione looked up.
“The Language of Flowers by K. Greenaway.” She read aloud. “Harry, that’s a flower dictionary.”
“Well, we’ve searched every potions book in the Hogwarts Library, Hermione.” He said drily. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

He grinned cheekily at her affronted expression and began checking flower meanings.

‘Asphodel – My regrets follow you to the grave.’
‘Wormwood – Absence.’

He wasn’t smiling, not now, not anymore. Chance was chance, but this was (It’s never a coincidence, d’you hear me? Never! Never and ever and ever, not with the kind of people you’re dealing with!) something beyond coincidence, something much more… fitting.

“Hermione.” He said slowly. “Asphodel is a lily, isn’t it?” But of course it was, he knew this; had read it a thousand times over in every potions manual and herbology textbook he had picked up – but he had to ask anyway. He had to ask.

Asphodel. Lily. Wormwood. My regrets follow you to the grave. Lily. Absence.
My regrets to the grave. Lily. Absence.
My regrets follow you to your grave, Lily.

Harry let out a deep, shaky breath.
“I’ve got it.” He said, and closed his eyes tiredly. “Will the greenhouses be open right now?”

Severus was sunk deep into his armchair and deeper into memory, that realm of the Fae that even he could not escape. The past haunts us all. He thought bitterly. Haunts us and leaves us with nothing but shadows and regrets.
And regrets are eternal.

An owl swooped down next to him, and he took the letter mechanically. It flapped out of the window – a letter that required no response. Just as well, perhaps. He was, at least, used to orders.

He glanced at the envelope and nearly fell out of his chair.
Master Severus Aengus Tobias Snape, read the envelope.

In all his life, five people had known his full name. Of those, three were dead – his parents and Lily (your-fault-you-did-it-you-were-the-betrayer). Albus Dumbledore had no reason to send him a letter when they were in the same school, and certainly not by owl.
And then there was one.

The Dark Lord – not dead, not gone – had sent him a missive.

The owl had come from the school and had returned to the school, which meant that the Dark Lord was somewhere inside the castle – why would he be in the castle? He already had an agent in place, already had Quirrell ready to steal the Stone for- but Quirrell could never manage it by himself, and the Dark Lord would surely have seen that, would never have let his sole servant enter Dumbledore’s domain without his own skill to protect the hapless fool.

Of course the Dark Lord was in the castle.

He opened the letter – his hands were shaking, why were they shaking, they needed to be still – and let the flowers tumble out.
For a terrible, heart-stopping moment, he thought the flowers were from Her (and he was lost in memory once more, exchanging flowers and translating them with a floral dictionary that they would have memorized in a few weeks, laughing and grinning the whole while at the silly messages), felt one moment of fleeting happiness before he remembered that she was dead and gone because he had killed her, and they would never exchange flowers again, insulting each other through bouquets and nosegays and acting innocent when their parents questioned the flowers spilling everywhere.

Three flowers. Amaranth. Bay Leaf. Yew.
Amaranth – Unfading Love. Immortality. Bay Leaf – I change but in Death. Yew – Sorrow. Fate.
Amaranth. Bay Leaf. Yew.

Unfading love. I change but in Death. Sorrow. Fate.

Unfading love, changed but in Death. Her fate. My sorrow.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter
Origin: Dursley’s
D.O.B: 31 July 1980
Gender: Male
Level: 30 [+140 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1. ADVANTAGES:
      1. Hero’s Complex: You’re a Hero! Your entire purpose in life – your raison d’être – is to rescue people in trouble, and from it. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even to the shitty ones. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: The metaphysical six-packs. No compulsion, Allure, Imperius or potion can subjugate your will. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: It’s what makes you a Seeker, not your inborn amazingness. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Wisdom temporarily 0 when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
      
      
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   40
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   36
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 59+5 =       64
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   57
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   33
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] : 115
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    63
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     60
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    5
      
      
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.
      
      1. Potioneering: Lvl 20 – 10%
   2. Flirting: Lvl 100
      Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.
      
   3. Waiter: Lvl 100
      Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.
      
   4. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!
      
      1. Herbology: Lvl 12 – 75%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
   6. Kissing: Lvl 100
      You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.
   7. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
   8. Fucking: Lvl 25 – 30%
   9. Wandcrafting: Lvl 2 – 0%
   10. Transfiguration: Lvl 5 – 15%
   11. Enchanting: Lvl 5 – 20%
   12. Dark Magic: Lvl 10 – 5%
       
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
   4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities/Deities to the Waiting Room, ???
   5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.
   6. Gryffindor: +5 HP. -5 WIS. +10 reputation with all Gryffindors. -10 reputation with all Slytherins.
      
      
5. Unlocked Cheat Codes:

1. 1. FAME

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -205
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36
Relationship: Best Friend
Reputation: +870
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15
Relationship: Lover
Reputation: +1000
Attractiveness: 16
Mood: ???

Hermione Granger – Level 18
Relationship: Friend-With-A-Crush
Reputation: +380
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: ???

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Level 638
Relationship: Headmaster
Reputation: +800
Mood: ???

Severus Aengus Tobias Snape – Level 301
Relationship: Professor
Reputation: +100
Mood: ???

Inventory

1. The Sheets – The Name of the Game.
2. 380 Pounds.
3. Basic armor clothing.
4. 9138 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 1 Knut
5. Standard Hogwarts armor robes x 3
6. Book x 187
7. Standard Hogwarts Potions Kit
8. Owl Treats
9. Tough Dragonhide Hand Armor
10. Telescope Set
11. Writing Set x 2

Quests

1. Make the Dursleys like you, ???
   Rewards: +30 skill points
                 +100 XP
                  ???
   
   
2. Complete The Sheets
   Rewards: +20 skill points
                 + 800 XP
   
   
3. Find the Truth about what Old Tom is.
   Rewards: +100 skill points
                 +500 XP

Post Owl – Hedwig: Delivers Post

1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage it can take.] :     20
2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic it can use.] :     5
3. DEX: [Dexterity represents its speed at running and dodging.] :     41
4. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly it can learn.] :         15
5. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work it can undertake.] :          21
6. VIT: [Vitality represents how long it can undertake physical activity.] :           27
7. Skill Points to be Allotted :   0

Companions can be summoned to the side of the Gamer whenever required. The Gamer is responsible for allocating status points of the Companion.

Chapter Text

You have rested in your bed. HP, MP and VIT restored to full.

Harry rolled out of bed with a grin on his face, one that slid off as soon as the curtains opened because holy-mother-of-fuck it was five-thirty in the morning what the bleep was wrong with the Game?
He padded down the dorm-room stairs – this time after taking the precaution of wearing a wool robe – and came across the completely unexpected sight of Hermione asleep in one of the armchairs.

‘Mood: Zzz’! Was the first thing to strike him. ‘Zzz’ isn’t a fucking mood!

“Hermione.” He whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. “Wake up.”
She stirred, slowly opening her eyes and curling further into the sofa. “What?” she mumbled. “Sleepy. Cold- Harry!” she exclaimed, sitting up straight suddenly. He did his best to hide his amusement, but some of it must have gotten through as she blushed a bright crimson.
“You’re very… eloquent, while waking up.” He commented, smothering a grin. “Why were you sleeping in the Common Room?”
“I woke up at five. I-” She interrupted herself with a yawn. “I wanted to go to the Library with you.”

Harry shook his head in exasperation. “Hermione, go back to your dorm and sleep!” he insisted softly. She scowled. “You are not stopping me from going to the Library, Harry James Potter!”

And for all her bluster, there was something very vulnerable in her eyes which again reminded him that she had never had a friend before Hogwarts – something soft and lonely and scared of rejection that reminded him of him. He sighed (and he caved, of course he caved) and held out a hand. “If you insist, my Hermione.”

She blushed and took his hand, before frowning.
“Harry.” She whispered.
“Yes?”
“Why are we whispering?”
He paused. They were not – as of yet – up to any nefarious activities, and there was no one else in the Common Room, so…
“I’m sure we had a reason.”

She snorted and accompanied him to the Library.

Two hours of frustratingly interrupted reading later, Harry stretched and dropped the last book on wand lore that was present in the Hogwarts Library – not that the topic was exceedingly common. Across the table from him, Hermione had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes of their reaching the table. He had done his best to make her comfortable without waking her up, but given the state of the Library chairs, his best was but a paltry comfort.

Madame Pince had not been happy to see him again, and had actually pursed her lips disapprovingly when Hermione fell asleep (and that had felt strange; Hermione had once been the only student she could actually tolerate). Even now the Book-Dragon was watching, just waiting for him to slip up and return a book to a spot different from its original resting place.

“Hermione.” He whispered. Seriously, wasn’t I just doing this. “Hermione, wake up.”
She blinked slowly and gazed around herself uncomprehendingly, before her eyes widened in shock. “Oh God-”
“Silence!” hissed Madame Pince, scowling as fiercely at Hermione as Harry had ever seen. Within a minute they had been aggressively ushered – although ‘booted’ would have been more apt – out of the Library, Hermione looking a little bit lost and a little bit utterly desolate.

Harry led her to breakfast.

“Harry.” Said either Fred or George.
“My dear, dear, Harry.” Said either George or Fred.
“Most beloved Potter of mine amongst all the Potters that have ever been.” Said… a third person?
“You hold – right now, in your very hands –”
“Opportunity, my boy! An opportunity the likes of which has never been seen before!”
“An opportunity to make us – and every Gryffindor henceforth – as joyous as yonder morning sun!”
“All you have to do – a simple task, you will see – is tell us that you have not spent the morning in the Library,”
“And nor have you corrupted another young Lion-”
“Oh, so young, oh, so innocent-”
“to your wicked, soulless, bookish ways.”

And in the expectant silence that followed, Harry gaped, because Fay Dunbar was speaking in threefold harmony with the Twins now and it was utterly disconcerting and this was not what he had been expecting from this morning and doom was upon them all and he had been the one to introduce Fay to the Twins and fuck this was bad and-

“Oh Merlin, what have I done?” he whispered.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked again.

Professor Snape apparently felt no need for sustenance in the mornings, for he entered the Great Hall mere minutes before classes were to start and seated himself with a scowl. He was – very subtly – not looking at Harry, which was fine because Harry was not looking at him either. No, Harry was rather more interested in the text – that incriminating, revealing, oh-so-useful text – that floated above his head.

Severus Aengus Tobias Snape.
Harry snorted. Aengus. He was never going to not laugh at that.
Reputation: +100.

Oh yes! It worked! Snape likes me! Yes!
All the voices in Harry’s head cheered wildly, with Harry himself leading them in a victory dance that a group of drunk sixth years had come up with the celebrate a Hogwarts Triwizard Champion.
This lasted for a good thirty seconds, until Harry realized that he was seated at the Gryffindor table, performing the single stupidest dance known to mankind in full view of the Great Hall.

He stopped abruptly. Yep, people were staring at him.

Stage Fright activated.

“Harry.” Said Hermione delicately. “I don’t know how to put this…”
She trailed off delicately. The rest of the Hall was still in shock.

“Thank you for coming to this staff meeting.” Said Dumbledore. “I know this is earlier than I normally hold it, but there are other factors in consideration this year.”

Five minutes into the meeting before Dumbledore said a word - and each second costing Him power He simply could not afford to waste, just as He could not afford to not be here.

“Last year’s batch of seventh years got quite a good result – nothing remarkable, but a very good average score and solid marks across all subjects. Congratulations!”

A round of applause from everyone – Trelawney was absent, and Severus only gave a single, soft clap. Meaningless platitudes.
“Our middle years seem, to the best of my knowledge, to be fairly secure in their studies – with Messrs. Weasley and Weasley, of course, making sure they do not forget to have fun. I may have to thank them in a speech sometime.”

No one applauded at that; Minerva actually turned a few shades paler. He let a nervous chuckle escape, and Filius turned to stare at Him incredulously.

“If anyone has any issue with this year’s seventh years, I would request them to bring it up now, so we may resolve as early into the school year as possible.”

Wastes of His time and precious strength, but He could not afford to let this chance slip – every move had to be calculated, every detail scrutinized. Dumbledore was a man of infinite plans, a giant among these petty conjurers – but He was better.

“Mr. Hawking is having some troubles in Transfiguration.” Said Minerva. “He did brilliantly on his OWLs, but his performance collapsed once we moved onto silent casting, and the trend seems to have continued to this year.”

Neither He nor Dumbledore cared the slightest about Mr. Hawking at this instant – the only difference was that later, Dumbledore would view the boy’s problems with benign concern, whereas He would merely note them, as He noted all insignificant details.

“Give him some time, Minerva. Perhaps a week. If his performance does not pick up, I may invite him in for some counselling – the NEWTs are an important stepping stone to one’s final occupation.” He smiled gently. “Who knows, he may simply have met a girl!”

Everyone – not Severus – laughed politely.

“Before the year began, I asked you all to review the defenses around a certain room – does anyone have any insights to share?”
Still so boring, so worthless - a conversation filled with mediocrity to its very core.

“Ah've managed tae git th'... guardian ye asked fur, Headmaster.” Rubeus said, doing his dismal best to be discreet. He did not care… yet. Later, perhaps, the Stone would occupy a more prominent position in His plans, but currently His mind was otherwise occupied.

“I’ve completed the Transfiguration that I had planned, Headmaster.” Minerva said crisply. “Although I might be able to devise a more fitting obstacle were I to know precisely what we are guarding and why.”

His power was bleeding away, drop by drop, with every instant that He retained control, but He could not afford to let go. The teachers were wasting His precious time with foolish questions – did they really believe, even for an instant, that Dumbledore would tell them anything more than he absolutely needed to? Dumbledore himself knew, and that was enough; that he had shared anything at all with Severus was astounding-

Severus was afraid.

Dumbledore was speaking again – more empty words and empathetic gestures – but this was something far, far more important. Severus was afraid, mortally afraid in a way he had not been even in the Blood War.
Oh, it was nothing obvious – no trembling hands, no wide, panic-stricken eyes, nothing so… pedestrian. Severus had always exercised a cold, rigid control over himself, and though the War was ended, the Potions Master had not changed.
All that there was to see was that his left hand was curled loosely around the wooden arm of his chair – and yet when had Severus, with his fierce, unyielding pride, ever taken support of something he did not absolutely need?
No, Severus was afraid – but of what?
(And still the teachers were talking, still imploring Dumbledore to tell them, but now He did not mind – He needed the time to analyze. This was as critical a moment as He had ever faced in his life, more critical than when He had made His first Horcrux – a single flaw would see Him undone and leave Him a wraith forever, held within some unspeakable trap – no, He could not slip now.)

Dumbledore had no inkling of His presence there – of that He was sure. He had set safeguards in place – one to hide Quirrell’s lust for the Stone, a second to conceal Quirrell’s connection to Him, a third to conceal His involvement in the Gringotts break-in, a fourth to conceal His possession of Quirrell, a fifth to fool the Hogwarts wards, another to blind the phoenix to His presence – layers upon layers of deception, that was how one got anything done without Dumbledore knowing of it, and He had decades of experience at the art.
Oh, Dumbledore would have pierced the first few veils, would even have guessed at His role in the now-infamous Gringotts robbery; He would expect nothing less from the man. Dumbledore was meant to see through those cobwebs – misdirection, and not concealment, was the name of the game here at Hogwarts.

But to underestimate Severus was to die, as many of his fellow Death Eaters had found. Snape had once been wholly on His side; now he was just as wholly on Dumbledore’s (‘the consummate survivor’, He had once said, and Severus had merely inclined his head in recognition of the compliment). A single habit, a keen glance or a familiar grasp of His wand – even something as insignificant as a commonly used phrase – could have awoken Snape’s never-truly-slumbering suspicions, and now the man was afraid.

And that made Him… wary.

(‘I am always afraid of something.’ Severus had once stated simply. ‘That is how I survive. And when there is nothing to be afraid of, I am simply afraid.’)

“And now we come to the first years.” Dumbledore said jovially, almost as though it were not the single most important item in his agenda. “I understand you have not had much time to properly identify them, but I ask that if you have, so far, found any problems of note, you bring them up now.”
“The newest Weasley boy does not seem to have taken after his two older brothers.” Pomona offered drily. “There is considerably less… hmmm, anarchy.”
He had heard tales of the Weasley Twins. The day they set foot in Hogwarts must have been a black day indeed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Very well, if there is nothing else, we may move on. Of course, you may feel free to bring up any issue you wish to discuss at a later meeting as well.” He paused for a moment. “However, it would highly foolish of us to ignore the presence of a certain student who has entered Hogwarts this year, so you may forgive me if I ask you to give your thoughts on Harry Potter.”

“Genius. Pure, unadulterated genius.” Said Minerva, not changing her severe tone in the slightest. “His friend, Ms. Granger, is brilliant in her own right, but he overshadows her completely. If he wished to, he could probably complete the Hogwarts curriculum by his Third Year.”

He had reached the same conclusion independently – the boy was at least as intelligent as He himself had been, the same shining star reflected across the pages of banal history. Oh, how He wished He knew the rest of the prophecy.

“I see.” Said Dumbledore softly, and He could see that now the Headmaster, too, was afraid – afraid that Harry Potter would turn out to be too much like the last student about whom a very similar sentence had once been uttered by a jovial Potions Master. “Pomona?”
“The same, I think. Boy’s a natural.” She shook her head. “Nothing I can add.”
“Filius? Quirinus? Cuthbert? Aurora?” he said, receiving the same shake of the head from them all. He turned at last to the Potions master. “Severus?”

Severus Snape. Youngest person in the world to hold any Mastery… ever. Youngest person to hold a Potions Mastery by over a decade. Inventor of nearly a dozen different potions, including the Wolfsbane potion - in association with Damocles Belby - at the tender age of seventeen. One of only nineteen worldwide – ten officially – who were qualified to brew it. He was inarguably one of the great minds of his time, both in Potions and in war, and as such held his students to a higher standard.
His dislike of Harry Potter was just as undeniable. For three days Snape had been watching the boy darkly at every meal; his first class with him had already achieved a near-legendary status. And, of course, there was the man’s unrivalled hatred for James Potter.

‘Harry Potter” the man began softly. “Has an unmatched intelligence, a mind unparalleled by any I have ever met. It is likely he will soon surpass us all; it is just as probable that he already has.”
Snape looked at them all, one by one (and if his gaze lingered slightly longer on Dumbledore and His own self, well, nobody noticed anything), and if not for His spy’s skill in Occlumency, He would have been sorely tempted to delve deeper and see the truth for himself.
“Anything that I try to teach Harry Potter, he either already knows or has no need to know.”

Silence.

He let himself fall back, let His bumbling host regain possession of his fragile shell once more, confident that the aged Headmaster was so sufficiently distracted as to not notice any slight discrepancy in mannerism. For both He and Dumbledore were thinking on the same things, He knew – of the oh so slight emphasis Severus had put on ‘any’ and ‘all’. With a man like Severus Snape – a man of infinite complexities – these little things mattered.
He was sure, now, that Severus knew He had possessed Quirrell. Some slight slip, somewhere; He was not sure how, but Severus knew. And Severus had meant this message for the both of them, playing both sides so skillfully that even though both He and Dumbledore knew of Snape’s games, they both still considered him indispensable.

Severus was one of the great minds of all time, but there were still a few alive that outshone him. Flamel. Dumbledore. His own self. Severus had met and worked with all of them – and he had just said that Harry Potter surpassed them all, had seen some measure of brilliance in the boy that had slipped past both Dumbledore and Himself.

And that had made Severus afraid.
Yes, Severus Snape was afraid of the Boy Who Lived. And now He was afraid, just as Dumbledore was afraid.

His plans required… adjustment.

The Weasley Twins, Harry reflected, seemed to have selected the fourth day of school as the day for their grand unveiling. It was suitably epic.

It had started small - everyone had woken up and found themselves translucent. Some cynics (or perhaps realists) immediately decided to blame the twins, and were still roaming the halls in pellucid wrath.
Fortunately, it had turned out to be a simple modification of a mirage spell, so some upper years had been able to reverse it. By the time breakfast began, most everyone had been returned to normal opacity.

The teachers had just finished undoing the last of the Twin’s spellwork when the next prank had begun.

Possums.

Seemingly out of nowhere, possums had appeared and caused utter chaos in the Hall. A great many people, it seemed, had a fear of possums, while others who had never seen a possum before were discovering a newfound terror of the mammals. Even Harry had found himself looking at them in a whole new light.

It had taken several minutes for a Ravenclaw to figure out that the possums had not simply been conjured – a feat which, at this scale, was beyond anyone save perhaps Dumbledore – but had been transfigured from students.
It was at this point that people had stopped swatting at the ringtails and had started screaming for the teachers.

The reversals of the opossums had given startling results – the selection of the students had been completely random. Roughly equal – in fact, Harry was willing to bet it had been exactly equal – numbers of students had been taken from all four Houses, with a few surprises; Professor Flitwick, for one, had jumped nearly three feet into the air when the possum he reversed had turned out to be Mrs. Norris.

The Twin’s pranks, it seemed, were triggered to start the moment the previous one was nullified (or subdued, killed, exorcised, etcetera, etcetera; it was Fred and George, after all), and their next one had seemed to involve a rather variable gravitational field. And that was how Harry found himself on the ceiling of the Great Hall along with the rest of the Gryffindor table. The other three houses appeared to be still on the floor, but from their bewildered looks, it was clear that they were experiencing the same phenomenon that the Lions were currently undergoing. The teachers standing in between the House tables seemed utterly panicked – Merlin only knew what they were seeing – while Dumbledore was chuckling softly.
And the Twins… well, the Twins had somehow seated themselves on the Headmaster’s chair, each dangling a leg over an armrest and grinning from ear to ear.

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor McGonagall shrieked, her hair falling out of its bun. One of the twins leapt up and stood at attention. “Mr. Weasley!" The other immediately shot up as well. "This has gone too far – any one of these pranks alone could have hurt someone severely! It will be detention for-”

And at the word ‘detention’, the Twins’ school robes turned into matching cowboy costumes, complete with hats and revolvers in their holsters.

“You’ll never take us alive, Professor.”
Then they both sprinted towards the door.

As the Professor prepared to give chase, one of them pointed a gun at her and fired. With a BANG, her hair was converted into a clown wig, forcing her to stop and undo the Transfiguration.
BANG! Her nose got a red bobble.
BANG! Her shoes became long and floppy, squeaking with every step.

“Geronimooo!” came the distant cry of the Weasley Twins. McGonagall narrowed her eyes and sped after them, shifting into her Animagus form in mid-step. The doors swung shut behind her.

“That was… surreal.” Said a stunned Hermione, breaking several seconds of silence.
“I don’t know.” Said Ron, looking rather disappointed. “I was kind of hoping for more, seeing what they get up to at home.”
“I doubt it’s over yet.” Harry said calmly. Everyone turned to stare at him.

“HELP! THE TOILETS ARE ATTACKING- OH GOD NOOO! PLEASE HELP! AARGH!”

“No.” said Fay, agreeing with Harry. “It’s only just begun.”
Hermione whimpered softly, her mood shifting to ‘Fearful’. Harry just wondered what Voldemort was thinking of all this.

Then he wondered how they would get down from the ceiling.

Then he wondered whether they even were on the ceiling in the first place.

The Weasley Twins, he knew, loved to play mind games.

WIS +1

“So how many years of detention did you get?” Harry asked, munching on some Bertie Botts because he just felt like tempting Fate.
“Oh, just the one.” A twin that Harry designated as ‘Fred’ replied.
“Did you know, dear Harrikins,”
“That there’s a rule preventing teachers from handing out detention for the next year?”
“There’s also one that limits the number of hours of detention that a student can serve in a single night.”
“We learned these little facts today, and they have opened up a world full of possibilities and improbabilities.”

“Also a world full of detentions.” Said Harry drily. “So, what can I expect from you gentlemen in the year to come?”

“Carnage, little one. Carnage.”

Harry barked a laugh and bit down on a nice-smelling brown bean that instead of chocolate, turned out to be the All-New Doxy Droppings flavor. He spat it out immediately, the Twins falling out of their chairs in mirth.

Moments like these, he could almost forget he was living a Game… but not really, not quite. There was always the text, the little messages, the monotonic replies of the paintings to remind him that life was an arcade and he had to win it.
And, of course, he had the knowledge of what was to come.

But meanwhile…

“Keep that up and I’ll tell McGonagall that you put Stinksap in my toothpaste.” He warned the still-laughing twins. “She may not be able to give you more detentions, but she can transfer the ones you have to Snape.”

“Brutal, Harrikins. Absolutely brutal. You have no sense of empathy.”
“We approve, naturally.”
“Oh, quite.”

Harry was taking a break.
He had used his rather dangerous friendship with the Twins to obtain the Marauder’s Map, an artifact he had found, on previous occasions, to be rather more useful than two of the three Hallows.

The third-floor corridor was mysteriously inaccessible to him; whenever he sought to enter it, he would be bounced back with that annoying ding and a message telling him that ‘the Gauntlet of Trials’ was not yet open.

He had confirmed that, somehow, Voldemort had succeeded in hiding his presence from the Marauder’s Map – there was no sign of the Dark Lord anywhere when Quirrell roamed the halls.

Pettigrew (rat-traitor-betrayer-liar), of course, was still visible on the map, but he could do nothing (he could feel the frustration, bubbling under his skin like fire). He dearly wished to free Sirius from his grief-infested incarceration, but Pettigrew had to escape the same way, at the same time, to ensure that Voldemort rose the same way (better the Dark Lord you know…).
All the knowledge of the future in his head, and all he could do was nothing. ( Wisdom, even more than Prophecy, was a burden than estranged men from the world, for it left one with no peers, nothing but a terrible foreknowledge of what was to come.  His own words, his own thoughts.
And knowledge, of course, was yet another chain to bind him – but death would set him free.)

And so Harry was taking a break, old-school.
By which he meant he was sitting in the Common Room, flirting skillfully with all the female first years of Gryffindor simultaneously, watching as his Reputation with them went up swiftly, and more and more of them started developing crushes on him.
Once this fact would have embarrassed him. Now, it was just slightly amusing.

Of course, this was slightly different from the original old-school flirting, seeing that most of the girls were probably pre-pubescent, and he definitely was (not that it had stopped him before – strange, but a thought for a time when he had some to spare).

But I would never have time to spare – that is the curse of destiny. Those moments slip past us, until, finally, we are out of time.

And then there was also the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and most of them already had crushes on him.
Perhaps the flirting was not all that skillful.

He was glad to spot Hermione, quickly excusing himself from the group that had formed around him despite their vociferous protests. As he neared Hermione, however, he sensed that something was off, both in her manner and her text, although he was unable to pinpoint exactly where the difference lay.

Hermione Granger – Level 19
Relationship: Friend-With-A-Crush
Reputation: +370
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: Happy, Confused

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but something small yet important had changed in Hermione’s manner.
“Hello, Hermione.” He said, grinning at his friend. “Woke up five minutes late today, I see. How lazy.”
Hermione gave him a slightly strained smile.  “Should we go to the Library, then?” she asked, giving no explanation for her late arrival.
Harry frowned.

Harry was still frowning – he felt like he had never stopped – two days later, having by then figured out what was causing Hermione to draw further and further away from him.
His reputation with her was falling.
The exact reason for this, however, was still unknown to him. He had first noticed that it occurred whenever he flirted with her, and had immediately stopped showing romantic interest in her. The reputation points, however, kept falling lower and lower.

Since then, he had tried every alteration and combination that he could think of, all to no avail. And in a paltry two days, his relationship with Hermione Granger had turned on its head, which was why he had now cornered her in an unused classroom.

Hermione Granger – Level 20
Relationship: Enemy-With-A-Crush
Reputation: -5
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: Confused, Angry

“Hey, Hermione.” He said, and she whirled to face him, hands automatically clutching at her book bag (He would check it for a very specific Diary later; it was too similar to be a coincidence, and those things didn’t exist in his life anyway). Her face immediately settled into a scowl that Harry had never seen directed at his own person before.
“Harry.” She said bitterly, as if he had in some way betrayed her.

“What’s going on, Hermione?” he asked softly, trying not to let his frustration bleed through into his voice.

-5 Reputation with Hermione Granger.

“Nothing’s going on, Potter.” She said. Last name now – that was a new low. Her knuckles were white. “What’re you doing here?”
“Finding out what is wrong, Hermione.” He spat, losing some of his self-control. “In two days you’ve gone from being my friend to hating me, and I still don’t know what you want! You won’t even talk to me now – how am I supposed to figure out what the problem is?”

He was practically snarling by the end, forcing himself to calm down when he saw her hands trembling. Suspiciously bright eyes met his gaze fiercely.
“Why do you want to talk to me?” Hermione asked, her voice shaking with suppressed anger. “Don’t you have other friends you would rather talk to?”

INT check failed.

He blinked. “What?” he asked, confused.
“You spend enough time with them, don’t you? You’re always flirting with them, and they all love it, so everybody’s happy.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, but her voice never faltered.

Emotional interference: WIS temporarily 0.

“I’m not some- some slag, whom you can just use when it’s fun and throw away later! Just because you’re cute and funny and brilliant and famous, it doesn’t mean I’m going to do whatever you want, following you around like a puppy the entire day just in case you might say something nice to me! And I’m not some silly little fangirl, either, delighted at even the chance to speak to Harry Potter! You think that you’re so great, so much better than the rest of us, but you’re not, so just go away!”
Then she slapped him and ran out of the room, leaving Harry and her book bag behind.

HP - 1

Harry was still standing there, stunned.

Days and weeks passed, and Hermione seemed to grow more distant rather than less. With none of his old friends at his side, Harry found that getting through Hogwarts had turned into an arduous task, rather than ‘months of fun-filled boredom interspersed with brief moments of absolute terror’, as Ron had once put it.

He missed Ron.
(Burn all your bridges, little one, so you may weep over the ashes.)

He was so depressed that he didn’t even bother chasing after Malfoy during their first Quidditch lesson, merely summoning Neville’s Remembrall when the Slytherin spotted it on the ground. Flight was little solace for a lonely soul.

He had done all he could to mend ties with Hermione, ending his interactions with other students almost completely as he kept trying to apologize to her. Rumors abounded as to the cause of the rift between them, some close to the truth, others fantastically wrong. She still avoided him, going out of her way to avoid spending any more time with him than necessary, and using all her ingenuity to avoid his attempts to corner her. He had even searched the girl’s dormitory for something similar to a diary (or a Diary), and come up with nothing.

Somehow, that was almost worse.

And suddenly it was Halloween, and Harry was searching frantically for Hermione on the Map, a single name amongst the hundreds of dots that teemed in the castle. Again, yet again, his eyes would beat the same pattern – the Map, the first-floor girl’s bathroom and the corridor he was running in. Map. Bathroom. Corridor. Map. Bathroom. Corridor. Map.

He found her a few minutes before the Feast was due to start, sitting on the stairs of the Astronomy Tower with her arms wrapped around her knees. Seeing him, she immediately started up and moved away, before realizing that the only exit was behind Harry.
“Hermione, listen.” He pleaded when she looked ready to start screaming at him. “I- I never thought about you – about any of the girls – like that. You’re my friend, and you’re pretty and smart, but I never thought of you as a fangirl, or a slag, and I’m sorry. Can’t we just be friends again?”

She was still not pleased, still not friendly as she had been, but she had seemed slightly appeased with his groveling; his reputation with her had gone up, at any rate.

And then he flung himself to the side – instincts screaming, awoken perhaps by a whisper of wind that could equally well have meant nothing – and the club meant to crush his head smashed instead into his left shoulder, sending him skittering across the floor. He opened his eyes groggily to see a mountain troll lumbering angrily in his direction.
‘It’s too early.’ He thought slowly, bemusedly.

HP – 20

Boss Battle!
Mountain Troll – Lvl 250
HP – 750/750.

Reality returned abruptly, and he rolled to the side as the troll smashed its club down again, splinters of stone peppering his back. He scrambled up, bones in his shoulder grating together, as the troll stumbled into the wall of the tower.

HP – 2
VIT – 2
LUCK check passed. Damage = 1.
Hero’s Complex activated.
Running Rashly activated.

“Ventus!” he snapped, a twisting column of air throwing Hermione towards the door.

MP check passed. MP – 1.

He lunged to the left as the club whistled within inches of his face (motherfucking toreo – and there ain’t never been a catedral like this one), but when he stumbled to his feet, Hermione was still lying there, frozen. 'Call the teachers, goddamnit!' he thought, diving to the left again. ‘No sound when it moves, no smell and it’s fucking pissed – Voldemort’s going for the kill this time.’

He opted to shield against the next swing instead of dodging it – he couldn’t run from it forever, while even a simple Protego was enough to stop physical objects.

MP check failed. MP – 1.

The shield barely slowed the club before it splintered into brilliant blue shards, and he had but scant moments to try to block the brunt of the blow with his arm (oh, powerless, futile instinct). His left arm now hung completely shattered, while some of his ribs were smashed. He took a deep breath, then let out a soundless gasp when bones in his chest grated where they most definitely should not have.

HP – 20.

He blinked to clear his vision and swallowed, feeling blood bubble to his lips. ‘Punctured lung.' He thought. 'Not good.’
The next blow he was forced to shield again – moving was hardly an option – but this time, he deflected the blow off to the side instead of trying to stop it head-on. The troll stumbled into a wall and roared in anger.

MP check passed. MP – 1.
LUCK check passed. Damage = 1.
Blood loss. HP – 2.

He used the distraction to try and levitate the club from its hand, but all he succeeded in doing was capturing its attention – although it was no longer looking at Hermione, which was a plus. How Ron had done it was a mystery.

MP check passed. LUCK check failed. MP – 1.
Blood loss. HP – 2.

The Astronomy Tower shook as it began running towards him, rage clearly visible in its brown eyes.
“Ventus duo!” he snarled, throwing the troll down the stairs with a boom. He grimaced in pain; even breathing was beginning to hurt.

MP check passed. MP – 1.
Damage = 5.
Blood loss. HP – 2.

This was impossible; he was doing far too little damage, his health was slipping away, and of course, luck was against-
Luck.
Oh, he was such a fool.
The troll was charging at him and this time it was mad, but he would have laughed if he could. “Roll dice.” He whispered, and the world froze as a dice appeared in his vision, spinning and tumbling through the air.

LUCK roll = +4
Probabilities will now be in your favor.
Blood loss. HP – 2.

Reality resumed – his chest was hurting, his health was falling, and the troll was charging, but this time, the odds were on his side.
“Wingardium leviosa.” He incanted softly, and the troll’s club lifted into the air, well out of its reach. It skidded to a halt and stared at it in befuddlement.

MP check passed. MP – 1.

Thirteen years ago in a time that would never now come, Ron had let the club drop and knocked the troll unconscious.
This time around, Harry was not feeling so benevolent. He swung the club down with all his remaining strength, smashing the troll’s head into pulp.

Damage dealt = 743.
Your HP = 8/58.
Boss HP = 0/750.
Boss defeated!
+3000 XP.
+20 skill points.
50 galleons loot bonus.

50 galleons put in inventory.
HP – 2.

Harry’s vision was greying, the pain slowly turning into a numbness that he vaguely knew to be more dangerous. He saw that the troll’s corpse now blocked the stairs, that it’s blood had splattered across the walls – but these things no longer seemed to matter.
As he lost yet more HP, Harry blacked out. The last thing he saw was Hermione cowering in a corner, staring at him in fear.

Information - Locked

Name: Harry James Potter
Origin: Dursley’s
D.O.B: 31 July 1980
Gender: Male
Level: 38 [+80 XP]

Statistics

1. Advantages and Disadvantages: There are a fixed number of advantages and disadvantages that complement each other. They cannot be removed, but they can be switched out either by replacing them with the reverse of their complement or with another acquired advantage or disadvantage.
   1. ADVANTAGES:
      1. Hero’s Complex: You’re a Hero! Your entire purpose in life – your raison d’être – is to rescue people in trouble, and from it. Receive a temporary 10% boost to all stats when saving someone from danger.
      2. Nice Guy: Be as nice to as many people as possible… even the shitty ones. Temporary +10 to Charisma when activated.
      3. Soul Strength: The metaphysical six-packs. No compulsion, Allure, Imperious or potion can subjugate your will. Wisdom temporarily reaches as high as necessary to defeat control.
      4. Need for Speed: It’s what makes you a Seeker, not your inborn amazingness. Match a ritual enhanced Voldemort in speed and reflexes. Permanent +5 to Dexterity.
   2. DISADVANTAGES:
      1. Running Rashly: Have a tendency to jump into situations without thinking them through. Wisdom temporarily 0 when activated.
      2. Survivor’s Guilt: When an acquaintance or higher relationship dies, feel severe and crippling guilt for not saving them. Intelligence temporarily 0 when activated.
      3. Lecherous: Cannot resist the carnal temptations of the flesh. Try to have different levels of sexual congress with females ranging from flirting to hardcore fetish sex based on her attractiveness. Permanent -20 to Reputation with the female in question if one fails to do what one set out to do [flirt, fuck, etc.] when activated.
      4. Stage Fright: Shy away from attention and publicity of either kind. Temporary -5 to Charisma when activated.
   3. STORED ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES: You have no stored advantages or disadvantages.
      
      
2. Features: Features are skill-points based statistics. These can be upgraded using basic skill points and have no upper limit. The average for any level is half of that level plus 7.
   1. HP:  [Health Points represent how much damage you can take.] :   58
   2. MP: [Mana Points represent how much magic you can use.] :   58
   3. DEX: [Dexterity represents your speed at running and dodging.] : 59+5 =       64
   4. CHR: [Charisma represents how well you can interact with people.] :   58
   5. WIS: [Wisdom represents how well you can think things through.] :   58
   6. INT: [Intelligence represents how much and how quickly you can learn.] : 115
   7. STR: [Strength represents how much physical work you can undertake.] :    63
   8. VIT: [Vitality represents how long you can undertake physical activity.] :     60
   9. Skill Points to be Allotted:    34
      
      
3. Skills: Skills are things that are learnt as the game progresses. These are upgraded by practicing them and have a maximum level of hundred. At a level x, a skill has x% chance of succeeding in a random test case, except at level hundred, which has a 99.9% chance.
   1. Cooking: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Master Chef – Any meal you cook will be an experience in ecstasy.
      1. Potioneering: Lvl 24 – 30%
   2. Flirting: Lvl 100
      Ladies swoon when you glance their way, and whores blush at your innuendo.
   3. Waiter: Lvl 100
      Never has any man waited as you can wait – with poise, grace and awesomeness.
   4. Gardening: Lvl 100 – 100%
      Botanist – Your mere presence makes plants grow healthier and faster. It’s like you’re magic!
      1. Herbology: Lvl 15 – 5%
   5. Sneak: Lvl 47 – 0% Stealthy
   6. Kissing: Lvl 100
      You have the kind of kisses that turn frogs into princes. Try it. It works.
   7. Pleasuring: Lvl 33 – 84%
   8. Lovemaking: Lvl 25 – 30%
   9. Wandcrafting: Lvl 5 – 0%
   10. Transfiguration: Lvl 12 – 60%
   11. Enchanting: Lvl 12 – 10%
   12. Dark Magic: Lvl 18 – 95%
       
       
4. Titles: Titles represent the way a group of people thinks of you, usually based on the way you act or the things that are said about you.
   1. Boy-Who-Lived: +100 reputation with people opposing or oppressed by Lord Voldemort. -100 reputation with people agreeing with or on the side of Lord Voldemort. +800 reputation with Albus Dumbledore. -800 reputation with Lord Voldemort.
   2. Chore Boy: +20 reputation with Vernon Dursley. +30 reputation with Dudley Dursley. +1 reputation with Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans. +15 reputation [sympathy] from acquaintances and higher who are aware of title, excluding the Dursleys.
   3. Whinging Gardener: +5 reputation with all residents of Little Whinging excluding the Dursleys.
   4. Master of Death: Can summon Entities/Deities to the Waiting Room, ???
   5. Professor: +30 reputation with all school-going students. +40 reputation with students who learnt something from you.
   6. Gryffindor: +5 HP. -5 WIS. +10 reputation with all Gryffindors. -10 reputation with all Slytherins.
   7.  
5. Unlocked Cheat Codes:
   1. FAME

Petunia Rose Dursley née Evans – Level 35
Relationship: Aunt
Reputation: -205
Attractiveness: 26
Mood: ???

Angela Wilkinshire – Level 36
Relationship: Best Friend
Reputation: +870
Attractiveness: 18
Mood: ???

Joanne Rowling – Level 15
Relationship: Lover
Reputation: +1000
Attractiveness: 16
Mood: ???

Hermione Granger – Level 18
Relationship: Friend/Enemy
Reputation: +1000/-1000
Attractiveness: 6
Mood: Confused, ???

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Level 638
Relationship: Headmaster
Reputation: +800
Mood: ???

Severus Aengus Tobias Snape – Level 301
Relationship: Professor
Reputation: +100
Mood: ???