A Gamer Fic – Damsels and Dragons
"I've decided to date Greengrass," Harry said with an air of triumph as he sat down across from Ron and Hermione. He didn't bother looking around to see if he was being overheard; through trial and error he'd found that as long as he kept stealth mode activated and didn't worry about being overheard, he wouldn't.
Hermione made a face. "I don't like her. Her and Pansy always make snide comments behind my back in Arithmancy."
Harry paused for a second, as if considering that.
"It's not ideal," he said at last. "But!" He interrupted before she could get going again. "I've checked my charisma and I'm pretty sure I can overpower her blood supremacy ideology, her past history, her relationship with Pansy... Greengrass is actually a pretty much perfect, to be honest. It's like she has no base personality or principles whatsoever. Someone just chocked her full of above-average stats and a rich family and off-you-go. I'd have a real problem if I had to convert, I dunno... well, to be honest most people around here would be fairly simple, all thing's told. But Daphne's a blank slate. Like completely. Before all this started, I don't think I ever noticed her."
"Oh, so she's Daphne, now, is she?" Hermione scoffed.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno, might rename her once she's in the party – sorry." He clammed up as Hermione looked away. He knew they were still dealing with coming to terms with the fact their entire existences were as constructs to assist him in his quest. Or at least, they projected the sense of coming to terms with it... he wasn't quite clear on that, and to be honest he felt uneasy poking around too much on that particular issue (and a score of others besides.)
"You could name her Lily Severa," Ron tried for a joke. Harry grimaced.
"Anyway um... you know, I've got to fight the -" he lowered his voice, falling back into old habits. "dragon, and Daphne – err, Greengrass – is pretty good at Potions and Charms, yeh?"
"Well, yes." Hermione acknowledged, slightly sullenly. "But I'm still better at Charms."
Harry gave her a grin. It was a very good grin. He should know - he'd spent all night improving its charm. "Yeah, but you can't be everywhere, so wouldn't it make more sense to focus on Transfiguration, and bring in someone to help with Charms?" Diplomatically, he didn't feel the need to enlighten her that once she joined the team, he'd be removing Daphne's 20% SpellMalusTM which would put her slightly ahead of Hermione in terms of Charms potential, and he certainly wasn't going to bring up that he had every intention of min-maxing both her and Daphne's respective talents from here on out.
It wasn't the most friendly or benevolent thoughts he'd ever had, but it kept his mind from wondering to his other idea, which was to rotate Fred and George along with Ron through the 'best mate' slot, if only to give him some strategic depth without penalizing his Weasley reputation too badly.
He shook his head, focusing on the kidney pie and potatoes in front of him. He took a bite. Delicious as always. It wasn't real in an absolute sense – the floating voice at the start of term had made that (and the rest of his life) all too clear. But it felt real. It tasted good. He enjoyed it. Surely that counted for something. And surely Ron and Hermione - he gave both his friends an affectionate look as their conversation turned towards something Susan had apparently said at the end of Transfiguration – counted for something to. He was just... going to help Hermione be more efficient.
The rest of the day went on fine, and often Harry could almost forget the quasi-omnipotential state he found himself in. He thought about skiving off from History and working on some of the side quests that were supposedly going to be of use, but scanning through them decided he'd be better off going instead. Greengrass might not be a problem, but McGonagall and Snape certainly were, for the time being at any rate.
He spent History of Magic ignoring Binns drone on about some Goblin Revolt which may, Harry supposed, never have even happened. Come to think of it, how much time before well... him, had actually happened? Any of it? Another thing he didn't like to think too much about, but at least it gave him a legitimate excuse not to even pretend to take notes about Garg the Gluttonous or Barg the Boisterous.
Instead, about halfway into whatever the day's lesson was, Harry pulled out his wand and whispered "Tilda Personae." Immediately, wispy grey writing filled the room, ephemeral looking and somewhat translucent, like lazy wisps of ash or smoke, outlined in thin bands of gold or silver. He had been spending quite a bit of time here and there trying to parse out what all the numbers meant, by comparing different wizards and witches to one another or seeing how the numbers changed based on whatever it was they were doing. Dean, he was fairly certain, was basically asleep and had charmed his eyes to stay open throughout the lesson. Neville was fairly anxious about something, but there could be any number of reasons for that, and to be honest he would have known that even without the numbers. Harry frowned – a thin pink line ran from Seamus to Lavender. He was fairly certain that hadn't been there before.
He finished his explorations before the lecture ended. Honestly, so many of his class mates were almost carbon copies of each other, without much going on to distinguish them in any meaningful way. Oh, some might be muggleborns and some purebloods, and they might have their own unique idiosyncrasies, like gossiping or accidentally setting things on fire, or quidditch, but with few exceptions he was pretty sure they could more or less fill in for each other. It had been astonishing and almost tragic to discover that literally the only differences between Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones was their busts, and Susan having an aunt of political importance.
Class eventually ended. His afternoon was empty, and Harry decided to go down to the pitch and have a bit of a fly before going to the library and having another crack for spells that might be useful against a dragon. No luck so far, and he almost wondered if the sadists who were now running his life had left the library void of useful resources for the task on purpose, but that was something to fume about in another hour or two. For now, he would fly.
Inevitably, he lost himself in his head again, wondering what it all meant. What would happen if he just jumped off his broomstick. Or flew out of Hogwarts to become a hitwizard for hire in America. Or just said bugger it to the whole storyline set out before him. But at least, up here, he still felt a bit of his old self even as he thought about it. Below, he saw a speck of red come onto the pitch, before zooming up towards him.
"Hey Ron – I didn't think they'd let you borrow one."
Ron shrugged. "Told 'em I had hopes of being keeper next year. For all the rubbish they give me they know I'm decent – they've made me keep for them for years in the orchard. Getting some time up here before next year only helps Gryffindor, yeh?"
"I'd still check it for jinxes," Harry supplied. Ron nodded. "Already did," he admitted. "But I don't think they'd risk Hooch's anger – she's mental about any nonsense on the quidditch pitch."
Harry snorted, thinking back fondly on how Madam Hooch had responded one time Malfoy had thought to sneak into a Gryffindor practice and had hit Katie with a vomiting hex. Even Snape hadn't been able to get Malfoy out of that one.
"Anyway, just came to check on you really," Ron said as they began a lazy circle around the pitch. "Not been easy for either of us, but can't imagine it's been great for you either."
Harry shrugged. "It's wonky, isn't it? You seem to be handling this better than either me or Hermione," he admitted a moment later.
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, maybe it's just growing up around magic, yeh? I mean wizards have been thinking about prophesies and stuff for ages. You and Hermione can call it a vid-ee-oh game all you like but it's the same idea, innit? Heroes having a path foretold for them."
Harry stared at Ron, nodding slowly.
"Don't get me wrong, drives me bloody mental if I think too much about it," Ron continued as the two dipped into a concave arc, the pitch zooming up toward them before they flattened out and began to rise once more. Focusing back on Harry, Ron continued. "Just don't think it's something worth getting het up about, not really. What happens, happens I guess."
Harry digested that for a minute just as they were turning behind the 'away' goal posts.
"And it doesn't bother you, not telling your Mum and Dad about it?"
Ron snorted. "Mate, you think I told anyone I almost got killed by a bloody vicious chess piece so you could stop You-Know-Who from getting immortality while living in the back of our professor's head? Or anything more than I had to about Lockhart? I haven't said a word about anything you told me about last year. Just one more thing, innit?"
"I'd like to talk to Sirius," Harry blurted. Now it was Ron's turn to look at him.
"I mean... you know, it's just -"
Ron opened his mouth, stopped, then closed it again. Opened it once more. Closed. Finally, he spoke.
"I get that. Should. Do you some good."
"I don't know how. I mean... how do I talk to him and, you know, I don't want him to think he's not real or something. That I think of him that way."
They had slowed down, and now came to almost a complete stop, only bobbing slightly on an updrift towards the Hufflepuff stands.
"Look, mate." Ron began slowly. "I'm real, yeh? You treat me like I'm real? Everyone treats me like I'm real. I think things and do things when you aren't around. Sometimes I think you're a right berk, to be honest." The last part was said with a grin and a tone that took any heat out of it, and Harry chuckled.
"Maybe not the sort of conversation you want to have in a letter," Ron admitted. "But the next time you get to see him, you should say something. He'll you know – he's not going anywhere. Not now."
Harry smiled, a sense of heaviness leaving his shoulders. He gripped his broom firmly and focused on the far hoops.
"Thanks Ron – that means a lot."
"No problem, Harry. Hey, if you have the time you should also talk to Dumbledore. If anyone here is also in your position I bet it's him. Maybe when he's balmy it's because he's doing one of your uh... con-soul things as well."
"Maybe," Harry replied noncommittally.
"And even if he isn't, I bet whoever made this place put all sorts of advice and information into him that would be dead useful for you. The wise old mentor arky type Hermione natters about sometimes."
Harry laughed. And maybe he would, once he got past the far more pressing dragons.
"Race to the hoops," Harry said after a moment. "Give you five seconds lead for the broom. Then we better go check in with Hermione."
Ron groaned, but wasted no time accelerating to hoops. Harry judged his acceleration and then added an extra two seconds, then zoomed forward. He had to push himself for every inch, but he clipped past the bottom left hoop just as Ron was sailing between the other two.
Harry didn't give Daphne or even his existential crisis much more thought with the much more immediate crisis of dragons barreling down on him. A combination of the summoning charm, a rather dark slicing hex from a book Madam Pince had handed over with a glare, and some absolutely brilliant flying, and he was back full circle to his original problem he had mentioned to his friends a few weeks back over lunch. Well.. not quite full circle; he was up top of the list in the tournament with nothing worse than a bitchy comment from the French champion. He gave himself a little smirk.
It was good that he waited though, because no sooner had McGonagall announced that there was going to be a Yule Ball this year than Harry heard the irritating little chime that came from everywhere and nowhere that he had a new MiniQuest. Quite predictably, he had to ask a girl to the Ball. Less predictably, he had the chance to up his charm and agility (still working on the practical applications of what that actually meant, but they sounded good) a full point (another ambiguous term), if he successfully got through the first dance without treading on any toes. Given how slowly his bars improved, this seemed like something worth doing, even if he hadn't already planned to go ahead and fill his fourth 'standard' party slot.
"It's going to be dreadful," Ron moaned. "They travel in packs, or hadn't you noticed? When are you supposed to ask a bird -"
But Harry wasn't listening. Harry was looking at the Slytherin table, eyes focused on a very particular golden snitch. He half-remembered there was a MiniQuest involving HOUSE UNITY, but he hadn't bothered reading it once he saw the title and he wasn't particularly concerned about it now.
"Be back in a second." He told his friends, hopping off his spot and striding across the Great Hall. He kept going, past the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, then turning right down the aisle between the Puffs and the Slytherins until he was about one-third of the way down the tables, well past the Durmstrang contingent and to the gaggle of third and fourth year girls.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Pansy snarked when she saw him. He ignored her.
"Oi, Greengrass," He called out, doing his very best to look warm and cheerful. "Like to go with me the Ball?"
The girl froze as if petrified by the basilisk. Her eyes widened and Harry maintained eye contact. He focused on his thoughts and desires. Her mouth warbled for a moment, and strange as it was he could feel her changing. Not just coming to new ideas, but new ideas co-existing as if they had always been there. Yes, her father had been a deatheater. Huh, he hadn't known that. Yes, she was a blood supremacist and not two minutes ago had been tittering with Pansy and Tracey about how Potter should ask the dragon to the Ball at least then he'd have a date who didn't have to worry about her hair. Yes, but... Harry had asked her to the Ball. He hadn't asked her to fight You-Know-Who but it was basically the same thing. And it was something she had on some level always wanted to do. Maybe, if things went well, she could convince Pansy to join her. If not, maybe she and Granger could one day become friends.
"Yes, yes I think so. I mean of course. Potter. Harry." Her mouth twitched for a second. Then she smiled. It was a nice smile.
"Lovely," Harry replied. Her cheeks went slightly pink. Whimsically, Harry gave her a wink before heading back to his own table. He found himself looking at Malfoy, who had stood up from his position at the border between the Slytherin and Durmstrang students. He looked a far less enjoyable shade of pink than Daphne had gone.
"When my Father hears about this!"
"Why would your father care?" Harry asked, genuinely confused by this apparent turn of events.
Draco stuttered for a second, then his face fell like he had just been hit by the stupify curse. "When my father finds out," he said again, though this time more as a mumble.
Whatever. Harry sauntered by, a third "my father" coming from behind him as Malfoy sat back down, sounding like a leaky balloon.
A chime went off. Harry checked. Sure enough, part 1 of YuleBall/YuleBrawl? was completed. Idly he found the HOUSE UNITY thing. He snorted, sure enough it was a bunch of bollocks, and now read 1/512. Like he was ever going to bother with that.
Harry was mobbed by Seamus and Dean and Ron when he sat back down, who were far more impressed that he had just gone and asked a girl like that in front of everyone, and not really giving a toss that she was a Slytherin.
"Well, I hope you're happy," Hermione eventually said with a sigh of the long-suffering.
Harry nodded with a grin, deliberately taking her words at face value. "Loads. Charms, Potions, and Political Connections. No skill in a broom and her Transfiguration points make Nev's Potions look stellar in comparison, but that's actually a good thing," he replied cheerily.
"A bit plain though, don't you think?" Ron cut in after swallowing a mouthful of mushy peas. As he noticed Hermione glaring, he went on, sounding a bit put-out. "What? I'm just saying if Harry is basically the next three Merlins all rolled into one, seems like a bit of a let down."
Harry nodded at that – it wasn't the worst point. He had said Daphne was going to be his 'girlfriend' more because that was what the slot was called more than any sense of romantic attachment to the girl he had hardly even known existed a month ago, despite three years of classes together. But the way she had looked at him... even if yes, it had probably been the quest and his stats making her all wonky... well, he at least was a growing boy. And okay yes, it was a bit shallow, but Daphne was a bit plain. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but if he really did have the power to just Wham! Poof! then really what was the harm?
"Ron, that's gross," Hermione grumbled. "Harry is better than that."
But Harry was not so sure he was, in fact, 'better than that'. Ron's words were suddenly as powerful as few others in history have ever been. Only Archimedes in his tub or Newton beneath his tree could comprehend the moment of clarity Harry was experiencing in that moment. Perhaps, at long last, he had cracked and gone completely mental. Perhaps he had accepted Greatness thrust upon him in this twisted form. Either way, the possibilities were suddenly endless.
"Tilda Personae" the words came almost unbidden out of his mouth, a hushed caress that spilled out not into the Great Hall but into a world of its own. A world of his own.
"Sorry, what was that, mate?" Ron asked. Hermione and Ron were looking at him, twin looks of mild confusion etched in their faces.
But though Harry heard them, he didn't acknowledge them, didn't think of them beyond understanding the words had been said.
Wispy numbers filled the hall. An incomprehensible mess from a distance, but his thoughts pulled him to Daphne. Her name floated in silver-laid wisps and directly centered beneath it a four digit number. A number he had a fair certainty what it meant but that he had stayed away from thus far.
He looked around the hall, but of course he was looking for the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts, and there could be no doubt where it would land – the French champion who appeared to have a verbal vendetta against him. Like Daphne, her name shone out to him, emblazoned in silver, and a number directly beneath it. A number that unlike the others, never changed.
"Harry, you're scaring us. Did she jinx you? Can you even be jinxed? Crikey."
Harry pulled out his wand and cast the motions of the switching spell, fresh in his head from Transfiguration. Instead of the incantation he thought of the two girls in question and in voice so softly it was little more than puffs of air "corpus verto zero zero three nine five five four nine."
A red flash filled Harry's vision. The world roared back into his ears. Hermione and Ron were giving him an odd look, and nobody seemed to notice his wand waving about. Quickly, he thrust it back into his robes.
"Harry, you okay?" Hermione asked, possibly for the third or fourth time, he wasn't sure.
"Yes, sorry – just thinking."
He didn't get any further as a shriek erupted from the Ravenclaw table. All eyes in the hall were soon transfixed onto the French Veela currently letting out a furious high pitched scream that sounded more like a bird of prey than a human girl. A very plain human girl with dull, dirty-blonde hair, a nose slightly too large for her face, and a neck a little too long for her frame.
"Nobody look at me, I am 'ideous!" By the looks around the hall, most of the boys disagreed, even if the noise was clearly getting to them to.
"She does look a bit different," Ron said beside him, his face a rictus of concentration as if he were working on a particularly challenging spell. Harry's jaw dropped. He turned away from 'Fleur' and focused back on his friends. Hermione looked a bit concussed.
A second scream broke out from the Slytherin table, and a gorgeous girl drew upwards with the grace of a prima donna at the Slytherin table, her friends making frantic 'shhh' motions as she did so, sending a halo of golden curls swirling around her shoulders as she did so before almost magically falling back into a perfect frame around her face, which was in the process of forming a perfect little pout, full lips pressing together under a button nose that sat primly between and below two piercing azure eyes.
It was all so much that Harry didn't even question how he could tell all that from over here.
"Well, it looks like it's finally hit her that she's going with a Gryffindor." Ron snickered, rolling his eyes. "Better you than me."
"Are you both being serious right now?" Harry asked, but it was clear from the rest of the hall that they were. If anything, only Fleur and Daphne were aware of anything odd going on. His stomach sank... that wasn't exactly good.
He thought frantically, as both Fleur and Daphne had both noticed the other in all the hullabaloo and were thrusting their wands at each other, Fleur a good step ahead on the draw. And then he noticed – in all the excitement, he had forgotten to close the command screen.
"Tilda Personae!" He hissed as quickly as he could. A portion of his mind cleared. Fleur and Daphne both halted, caught in the air for a moment like puppets held taught... and then as if their strings had been cut fell back into their seats, Daphne with considerable more grace than the unfortunate French half-veela.
"Ronald, you're staring," Hermione hissed a moment later, like she too hadn't been. Similar whispers were going on all across the hall, winding through tables as everyone apparently re-calibrated what had just happened. Harry just watched.
"Sorry, I uhh, slipped." Ron said, sounding a bit gobsmacked. Harry couldn't blame him. He hoped Hermione didn't give him too hard a time about it either, but he wasn't sure how he could explain what just happened. "Be a lucky bloke who gets to take her to the ball though, tell you that."
Hermione hmmmphed.
"Anyway, just something to think about, yeh? Wave whatever mumbo-jumbo and knock Daphne up a few points is all I'm saying. Doing her a favor for what she's doing for you, if you think about it."
Harry nodded. "I'll think about it," he replied, doing his best to keep a straight face and not thinking at all about the phrasing knock Daphne up. He tuned out the budding argument between his friends – he had two slots left to fill, after all, and a second task to figure out.