Hogwarts: A Historical Game

by Temairine

Martin Valier wished for nothing more than to provide for his family, and serving at the court of Henry VIII was certainly lucrative, though dangerous. But he knew too much, and his death was a direct consequence of this. But instead of the afterlife he was in a castle named "Hogwarts", his life "Muggle History" and his world was a "Video Game"!

1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts: A Historical Game

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties. They are owned solely by J.K. Rowling.

Authors Note:

First and foremost I would like to give full credit and thanks to CuriousTooMuch (Av) for the amazing OC which this story will centre around. This story would not be written without her creative input. An additional thanks to her for agreeing to beta this story for consistency, accuracy, creativity and all the other lapses that I am prone to making.

For readers who have read my other story: The Witching Hour which is also set in the Harry Potter world, the statistical system is very similar, even though the stories are completely different.

Let the story begin!

Chapter 1:

It was dark; so very dark. At first he had thought it was an hallucination – a side-effect of the head wound. He presumed he had a head wound, even though he could not reach up to feel it. In fact, he couldn't feel the blood either but he knew it would be there. His hands were strangely numb.

Falling from one of the many towers at Hampton Court would leave its mark on his body but he had had no choice. He had hoped that he would die. After all, only punishment and dishonour awaited him. Yes, it would have been far better if the fall had ended him. If he was alive, his execution and possible torture would only serve to hurt his family and close ones.

It was so dark, almost like death. He closed his eyes, tying to keep the assault of painful memories at bay.

The path of a mercenary was harsh, but it paid well. Politics, intrigue and betrayal also paid well.

The amount of money his family had received from his last master would support them in moderate comfort for the rest of their lives. Consequently, his little sister, Hyacinth would get her own income and be able to marry where she chose; his uncle was unsuited for the harsh realities of court and the ways of the world but he was a capable and kind guardian. His sister would not be forced into a marriage with some elderly man in order to live, nor would she face the fate of many poor gentlewomen and be obligated to become a nun. He just wished that he could see her again, but that hope was so frail that it did little to stall the blackness from slowly seeping over him.

And so it was that the life of Martin Valier, man-at-arms of Thomas Cromwell and mercenary of the Tudor Court died.

In many ways his death was for the best. The political situation in the court of Henry VIII had been volatile as the King had sought to execute his second wife, Anne Boleyn. The Queen's former ally and his master – Thomas Cromwell – had sought to destroy any connection with her that could lead to his imprisonment and possible death.

Martin Valier had been the discreet messenger between Thomas Cromwell and Anne Boleyn. He knew too much and had successfully become a threat. His French birth made it easy for him to be accused; not only was he a foreigner but he had no important family or connections in England.

The treason charge was made yesterday. He was accused of taking illicit messages between Anne Boleyn and William Brereton, groom of the privy chamber. Thus, Cromwell was able to claim innocence while Martin had appeared to have assisted the Queen in her adultery.

Though he had had no prior knowledge of the charges levelled against him, when a proclamation wanting his death was issued, he didn't frown. After all, Martin was no stranger to death. Such was life at court for a man-at-arms and he had realized that a long time ago; the chances of him dying due to natural causes were slender at best.

In addition Martin himself had ended many lives; some in battles while others more prudently, against both trained soldiers and bandits.

Since his arrival at the English Court, some three years ago at the age of twenty-one, the majority of people he had slain were assassins targeting Cromwell. These could be trained professionals or desperate peasants seeking revenge for some reason or the other. He had killed them all in his role as a bodyguard to Cromwell.

However this was not the end of his deeds. There were others; others he had slain who were different; special assignments in a way. These were the deaths that he remembered clearly. These were the deaths where he had cast the first blow or the first slash of the blade, in his case.

Sometimes he had used a bow and arrow, when the target was guarded heavily. Most of these people were corrupt criminals whose death he did not mourn. Others, though, had committed the crime of being born; their existence becoming a threat, maybe to another's inheritance: enough that their death had been ordered. It was their deaths which strained on his consciousness.

Through it all, Martin had sacrificed much. The most difficult to let go of had been his pride. Pride was of no use when it came to earning money. But seeing as he was destined for the dungeons, the remnants of Martin Valier's pride had urged him towards one final act. The act of jumping from a tower; not as a coward seeking escape but the act of a young man of only twenty-four years choosing his final fate.

Martin opened his eyes and the fog of darkness around him cleared slightly. Though his surroundings were still shrouded with night, he could now make out the shape of trees in the darkness. He could feel the slight pressure on his shoulder-blade from a twig biting into it.

Martin immediately knew that, through some miracle perhaps, he was alive. Alive in an area that was most certainly not the gardens of Hampton Court. His body still felt odd, though. It was a strange feeling as if he was a puppet who had not quite managed to work out how to move.

Quickly checking himself over, Martin saw that he was perfectly uninjured. However he still could not dismiss the feeling that something was not quite right. Nor did he want to dismiss it; ignoring your instincts was a fatal mistake for a bodyguard to make. So when his fingers firmly gripped the pommel of a sword, he drew it immediately. It was hard to lift, despite the design being similar to the one he had used back at court. He was unable to see the markings due to the lack of light, but the sword was of a high quality… perhaps a family heirloom.

His muscles were aching and protesting against the pressure of the sword and Martin cursed under his breath. Why was he so out of shape when he was not even injured? And while he was asking questions... where in lord's name was he!?

Something shifted behind him suddenly and Martin darted under the cover of the nearest tree, immediately cautious. It had been a long time since he had fought in a forest, some seven years or so if he recalled correctly, but even so he managed to move relatively silently.

In the distance, there was a lake. Huge and black. The lack of shading from trees made the area seem marginally brighter than the forest. It was this slight illumination that allowed Martin to see a figure standing by the lake. Or rather... was it floating…?

A long and tattered black cloak swirled around the figure, obscuring any identifiable features from view. The figure did not move and Martin felt his curiosity override his vigilance. Was it even possible to stand like that?

As he pressed closer, a strange chill unexpectedly swept over him. A dark aura emanated from the figure by the lake and the cold sank deep into Martin's bones. It was like everything good was leaving him; all joy and happiness. The memory of training in swordsmanship with his uncle was gone. The memory of his father hugging him every night before he went off to work had vanished. The memory of holding his sister, Hyacinth as a baby was slipping away as well...

He was jolted out of his misery by instinct, nothing more. The figure had finally turned around and was silently floating towards him. The chill only grew worse as the creature approached.

Martin was losing everything precious to him and new memories, sad ones, were starting to surface. His mother's devastated face as she wept on his father's deathbed. His first kill, the bandit's eyes staring glassily up at him and the sensation of utter revulsion he had felt. The one time Hyacinth had fallen down a well and they had thought her dead…

'But she isn't dead; she is alive and happy, back in France.' He thought rapidly. 'She is waiting for her brother to come back, like he had promised.'

The promise was not something Martin considered a happy memory. Not now that he had become a hardened killer, the very thing he had sworn to Hyacinth he would not become. But the part of his promise where he pledged to return to see his sister again was something that he could not let go… Gathering up his courage he got into a fighting stance, preparing for battle against the monster which was closing the distance rapidly. Frantically he remembered why he was fighting. Martin had to keep at least one of his promises!

Memories of his sister flooded his thoughts. The way she used to smile in the sun. The way she waited for him to come back home, every night. The way she would not let anyone else look at her injuries other than her brother. The way she would… The images kept growing stronger and stronger. Martin felt his emotions surging on, filling him with a sense of joy.

Then... it happened. The strong feelings began to express themselves. Tendrils of white mist began to converge around the sword which he still held at the ready. The figure flinched backwards, just a minute amount, but Martin was not a trained soldier for nothing. He was used to reading his opponents; to exploiting their every weakness and above all, winning the fight.

He raised his sword and the mist grew brighter and thicker. The creature paused and that pause was all Martin needed. His sword now shone with a brilliant white light, illuminating the surroundings. Without waiting for the creature to advance again, he struck. The sword stabbed through the creature's chest only to be pulled out with little resistance. An eerie noise rose from the figure, and with fumbling features it reached for its hood. Martin could not have been more thankful for his years of honed reflexes. Before the hood could come down, the sword slashed through the air once more, this time severing an arm.

Martin pulled back panting; normally he would not even be slightly out of breath but the sword was extremely heavy and the opponent powerful enough to resist him. Then the creature raised its remaining bony hand and removed its hood, revealing a gaping hole beneath. The sword shone brighter still as the figure prepared to lunge at him. Martin sucked in a breath. This would be the deciding strike. This would be the moment when the winner and loser were decided.

Quicker than the mercenary expected, the cloak swirled. A hand made of bones with what felt like rotting flesh attached to it, grasped Martin's throat, pulling his head towards the hole where its head should have been.

With his last remaining strength, the shining sword was raised. Martin could dimly hear approaching voices and footsteps although these were soon drowned out by the creature's mere presence. When the sword reached the apex of its climb, the mercenary bodyguard swung it down, towards the hole substituting for the monster's head.

A haunting wail filled the air, followed by a screech that jarred his ears.

Martin could hear the footsteps once more before they faded abruptly. Looking down, he could see the figure's limp body, still shrouded in its cloak. He had done it. He had won again. As the tiring darkness claimed him once more, strange words flashed in the air in front of him.

TUTORIAL PASSED: EXISTENCE CONFIRMED. CONGRATULATIONS.

Martin looked around in worry. He was in that strange place again, alone in the darkness. What was happening to him and why?

Fighting that figure, no, that thing cloaked in black was not the end... he shuddered as he thought about the nerve-wracking encounter. Well wherever he was, it was a completely unknown territory containing monsters; the like of which he had only heard about in myths and stories.

Martin's mind was analyzing his memory of the surroundings, in particular the forest where he had found himself. The trees were strange in nature; he just could not identify them. That meant that he was not in France and probably not in England either or he would have recognized at least some.

NEW GAME
CONTINUE
EXIT

Martin was, by now, pretty sure that he was hallucinating. Probably worse than hallucinating. He must have caught a fever from the wounds that he'd gained from his fall and it was making him insane slowly. After all, words did not just appear in front of people.

It wasn't normal.

Then again what he remembered doing; the strange light coming from the sword he had wielded was not normal either. Throughout his thought process, the words floated innocuously in front of Martin... waiting for something…?

Shifting into a fighting stance once more, Martin edged closer to the words. Unfortunately, he was without a sword but he was moderately well versed in hand to hand combat so he could probably dodge an attack. At least, he hoped so.

His fingers reached out and tentatively touched the first of the floating words.

NEW GAME: SELECTED

STAGE 1: How SPECIAL are you?

Hint: SPECIAL stats have maximums and minimums. Everyone has some degree of each value, otherwise they would not be alive and have magic. Hence the minimum value for a stat is 1, and the maximum value for a stat is 10.

You have (11) SPECIAL Points to spend

What were those strange symbols…? Martin knew that he had seen them somewhere before, but he could not place them in his mind.

1... 10... Hmm…

Gradually it came to him that they were numbers. It was really no wonder that he hadn't recognized them immediately; he had inherited no trade or estate that had required management and his number sense was limited to bartering with merchants and making sure that he was not short-changed.

With narrowed eyes, Martin eventually managed to recall the first ten numbers. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10...

He was pretty sure that he had remembered them in the correct order but he hoped there would be a further clue. A small smile formed on his rugged face as he remembered his family. Hyacinth had always been better at maths than him; so had his mother, for that matter – it was these two who managed the family expenses.

Focusing on the numbers had required such intense concentration that Martin had completely overlooked the middle sentence.

Now he wondered how he could have missed it! The explanation to the situation and the reason he was here was magic!? This was bad; he didn't want to be involved with magic at all. He was especially nervous about what the implication that he had magic could bring… Magic was a crime which would get you burnt at the stake just for having it and Martin knew that with the strange light, the strange figure and the strange words, he was now most definitely involved with magic. The lights dimmed all of a sudden before brightening again, causing Martin to jolt his eyes upwards.

S is for Strength

Strength is a measure of your physical power and health. It will affect your health points as well as your base attack value in non-magical combat. It influences the skills of Physical Combat, Healing and Athletics.

Your current Strength value is 7

So this was some sort of magical measuring tool for telling him how strong he was…?

Martin glanced down to see the number ten in the corner of the screen – what did that mean? After looking at the screen for a couple of seconds, he hesitantly reached up and pressed the arrow shape on the right side of the number seven.

Three things happened at once…

Firstly, the number seven became an eight.

Secondly, the nine in the bottom became a eight as well.

Lastly, he felt a rush of power; he really did feel stronger!

So not only would this thing tell him how strong he was, it would also let him get stronger... Just like that!?

Pressing the arrow on the left side reversed the changes and took away the rush of power, making him feel normal once again.

So this was magic… no wonder it was a threat! Anything that could make people stronger instantly was definitely a risk, but it did make Martin wonder. This magic didn't seem to be evil; it wasn't good exactly but it certainly wasn't bad. There had been no sacrifices, no curses – it was strange of course – but it felt natural for want of a better word. It was like it belonged.

P is for Perception

Perception is essentially your attention to detail. It will affect your observation skills, meaning that you can notice enemies sooner and discover secrets that you otherwise would not find. It will also open up a lot of dialogue options, many of which will lead to quests. Perception is relevant to the skills of Mind Arts, Magical Theory, Alteration and Evocation.

Your current Perception value is 6

So his strength was higher than his perception… Hmm… That was actually quite accurate; he had always been a bit stronger than he had been observant. As his curiosity got the better of him, he pressed the right arrow button twice, bringing the score up to eight.

The change was instantly noticeable. He felt more alert than ever before and while he was not in a situation to judge, Martin liked the feeling; it made him feel like he was better prepared for whatever may occur. After a couple of seconds of thinking, he decided to keep it like it was and looked down at the next skill.

E is for Endurance

Endurance is how much magic you have at your disposal, a higher Endurance score will mean that you can cast more spells and it will also grant you some resistance to magic-based damage. This does not apply to the unforgivables, though. Endurance helps define the skills of Enchant and Alteration.

Your current Endurance value is 4

Martin chose not to change his endurance value just yet. After all, he had been able to notice the difference for both strength and perception and the idea of becoming more magical was actually quite worrying. This magic might not be evil but he still did not know if it was trustworthy.

C is for Charisma

Charisma will define all of your social relationships in one way or another. Without the ability to speak eloquently, you will have a hard time, not only at establishing relationships but also at being believed. Charisma will also be the main factor in the skills of Barter and Persuasion.

Your current Charisma value is 2

The comparatively low value did not bother Martin in the slightest. In the various professions he had been in, which were being a mercenary, an assassin and a bodyguard respectively, a high charisma would get him killed. The whole idea of being a bodyguard was to listen to orders and remain invisible. After all, when you were aiming to kill someone, the last thing you needed was for a witness to remember you and get you caught.

The barter skill, however, convinced Martin to put a lone point into charisma. Buying decent weapons was often incredibly costly – especially if you did not want them to be traceable back to you.

The rush this time did not leave him feeling any noticeable side effects, though. That made sense; he would need to talk to someone to see the difference.

I is for Intelligence

Intelligence is a key area; affecting not only how quickly and easily you learn new information but also affecting how quickly you can respond to new situations. In short Intelligence is vital in both the long term and the short term. Short term, you will be able to form ideas to solve problems/events significantly faster. In the Long term, it will affect your test scores and how many spells you have in your repertoire; not to mention giving you more skill points each level. The skills Intelligence influences are Research, Enchant, Evocation and Knowledge.

Your current Intelligence value is 3

Judging from the way it affected four separate skills and had the largest clue information from the whole lot, Martin deduced that intelligence was probably an important skill to have and four was a less than ideal number.

If he had a high intelligence, then, maybe he would be able to figure out exactly what was going on in this black room with the strange flashing screens that appeared to be magic. Consequently, he hit the right arrow button four times in a row, making his intellect a respectable seven.

The rush of power was much more intense this time, probably because this was the largest increase that he had had so far. When he was no longer reeling from the intake of energy, he tried to recall the numbers and found it much easier to understand. Martin also came to the realization that the number at the bottom of the screen, which was currently at four signified how many of these points he had left or in other words how many times he could boost his abilities.

A is for Agility

Agility is a versatile stat as it applies to both magical and non-magical areas. Affecting quickness, agility controls both the speed and dexterity with which you move: for example, when dodging curses or sword blows. The number of spells that you can cast in a given time is also increased/decreased depending on one's Agility. Therefore it is relevant to Stealth and Athletics.

Your current Agility Level is 7

Agility seemed like it would be useful in a variety of situations, if the screen was to be believed – which Martin was still reserving judgment on. All of the strength in the world is useless against the speed you cannot reach; a saying which Martin considered sound tactical advice.

With that in mind he placed another two points in Agility, making it his highest statistical skill yet with a score of nine.

L is for Luck

Rather than affecting any skills, Luck is a completely random stat. It might save your life or it might not do anything. What it will definitely do is to provide more positive random encounters at an easier level.

Your current Luck value is 2

Thankfully, luck was the final statistic Martin had. Which was ironically rather lucky since he only had two of the improvement points left and which he immediately placed in Luck.

Martin was well aware that in a fight, luck was often a deciding factor and if you could have fortune on your side, you may very well win before inflicting serious damage to the opponent.

This brought him to a final screen which summarized his statistics, allowing him to compare them without moving back.

Strength: 7

Perception: 8

Endurance: 4

Charisma: 3

Intelligence: 7

Agility: 9

Luck: 4

CONFIRM STATISTICS?

YES

NO

Martin Valier took a deep breath before pressing 'Yes'.

And so it was that the man who had been previously lying dead on the pathways of Hampton Court Palace had taken a step further into the video game that his life had now become. Not that he knew of it yet...

Thank you for reading. As always constructive criticism is appreciated, as well as general feedback. Reviews are a major source of motivation. And I hope that you enjoyed reading chapter 1 of Hogwarts: A Historical Game!