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Harry Potter And The Game of Death
Level 1
Chapter Sixteen: Beginner's Rank
It was on the evening of July 5th, 1994 that Harry closed the character class guide for the 2nd edition of D&D. A satisfied smile on his face, he placed it down on top of a guide for a game called Planescape. The two books topped off a rather large stack located at the side of his bed, all of which he had already read.
Finished with his research for the day, Harry sat up from his comfortable sea of pillows and stretched muscles that had grown sore from staying in one place for too long. Pouring through tose books and more over the past month had at times been a long, hard slog. But in the end, all of his efforts had paid off. With Hermione's help, and with Hedwig serving as their ever-faithful courier, Harry felt that he had finally begun to get a handle on how the Game of Death operated. Terms which he had originally found confusing, such as 'Inventory' and 'Menu,' now made perfect sense.
Harry fingered the spine of a nearby book as he mulled over the contents he had just absorbed and what they might portend for his new ability. An itch to put his newfound knowledge to use had grown in him, and now was as good a time as any to get started.
"'Menu'," he stated in a clear and concise tone. When the text box came up, the accompanying ding no longer fazed Harry. He had grown used to it as a result of his constant experimentation with the Game and its abilities over the past few weeks.
Ding!
MENU
GAMER STATS PAGE
ACTIVE PARTY MEMBERS
KNOWLEDGE COMPENDIUM
INVENTORY
OBSERVE
HELP
Most of the features listed on the 'Menu' had already been used by Harry in some fashion. For instance, he already knew how to use 'Observe'; the 'Help' feature was an annoying but useful tool that he was more than familiar with by this point; and the 'Gamer Stats Page' was merely an easy way to call up his stats page without having to rely on 'Observe' and could be used to track his progression – and that of anyone else he were to use 'Observe' on – over time.
Harry selected his stats page and looked at the display. He had gained ten levels by destroying Voldemort's Horcrux and was now at level forty. Which meant that Harry was now at the same level as an exceptional fourth year student at Hogwarts, though his true power was far greater; no other student his age could match Harry once his various traits and titles were factored into the equation.
Harry passed over his many titles and traits since none of them had changed and instead concentrated on his attributes, noting how they had grown.
Harry Potter
Age: 14
Level 40
Stats:
STR: 55
DEX: 68
CON: 53
INT: 127
WIS: 108
CHA: 357
Upon levelling up, the Game had automatically assigned the attributes Harry had gained and had decided to place the new points into Harry's bottom three attributes. Those ones governed magic, so it made sense to Harry that the Game would prioritize them. He was a wizard after all, and having a better grasp over the magic he was learning to wield could only be helpful.
Going by D&D gaming logic, which Harry found to be the archetype closest to his situation with the Game of Death, he would be what was generally called a 'player'. But given that he had yet to encounter anyone else with this ability, and that Professor Dumbledore had never heard of anything remotely like it, Harry figured that he was in what was often called a 'solo' campaign.
The alternative – that there were other, potentially hostile, players who also had access to the Game of Death – was not a pleasant notion.
Though it would not be the first, for D&D logic had already given Harry another rather unpleasant revelation. Because if the Game of Death functioned like a D&D RPG, and Harry was in a solo campaign, then there was one other necessary role which had to be filled.
The role of the Dungeon Master. And given the name of the Game there was likely only one entity who could perform that role.
Harry's brow furrowed as he thought it over for what felt like the umpteenth time.
What if there was some inherent issue within the Game that could come back to bite him at a later date? What if Death decided to change the rules on Harry without any notice? Or what if the mere fact that that he had accepted the invitation to play the Game of Death in the first place meant that Harry had doomed himself to some sort of eternal damnation in the afterlife?
Ugh. Thinking about it tended to bring up those sorts of questions, and nothing Harry had learned from his research or by exchanging letters with Hermione had yet to put them to rest.
But thus far the Game of Death's benefits far outweighed any downsides it had had brought. And, in fact, had only brought him good things with seemingly no negative downsides whatsoever. So instead of wallowing in fear of the unknown, Harry chose to stop fixating on the negative 'what ifs' and instead focus on the tangible positives the Game continued to provide. He would let Hermione figure things out regarding the esoteric and theoretical side of things while he focused himself on preparing himself to face whatever new danger life would inevitably throw his way.
A knocking sound came from his door.
Not expecting to be disturbed, Harry raised his head. His ears caught the faint rustle of something being placed on the carpeted floor. This sound was followed by the whispered noise of sock-clad feet on carpet scuttling away.
Cocking an eyebrow in amusement at what could only be his aunt's fearful antics, as both Vernon and Dudley moved with the grace of a walrus out of water, Harry left his position on the bed and softly padded over to the door. He opened it and looked around; there was no one in sight. His aunt must have moved quickly indeed.
Then Harry looked down at the floor, whereupon he gave a small snort of amusement.
What lay on the ground before him was a tray containing his noontime meal. It was a simple affair composed of a roast beef sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. An unopened bag of crisps lay to one side, while a white napkin and a tall glass of water stood on the other to complete the picture.
Looking at the food brought a small smile to Harry's face. The meal itself was nothing to get too excited over if you were someone who had always had access to three full meals, but Harry had not grown up like that; most of his childhood in this house had consisted of two small meals of leftovers per day. Or, if he was being punished, one meal with a glass or two of water.
But the letter from Sirius had changed everything. And this summer, unlike every summer or year that had come before, Harry could finally eat as much or as little as he desired.
He bent down and picked up the tray of food. Now that there was a meal in front of him, Harry could feel his stomach rumbling. He had been so absorbed in his research that he had failed to notice the time. Everything on the plate was prepared perfectly to his liking and just looking at it had caused his stomach to let out a second hungry growl.
But before he had done more than step into his room with the plate of food, Harry paused.
There was a single glaring error concerning the plate of food. And knowing his aunt, Harry had a feeling that it was very much a purposeful error, and that the shrew was still lurking in the vicinity to see if he noticed it.
Feeling irked by her stupid little game, Harry decided to have a little fun at her expense.
"Thank you very much for the food, Aunt Petunia," Harry said aloud to the empty corridor. "But the next time you bring me a sandwich I would ask that you not forget to include the pickle. I know that you always keep some stocked on the top shelf for Dudley, so there's no good reason to leave it off. Especially when you know I like them with my meal."
A slight, soft shuffle came to Harry's ears as he spoke. His guess had been correct, and the no doubt frightened woman had started to hightail it to somewhere she perceived to be safe from him.
Time to go for the finisher, then, before she got too far.
"Oh, and before I forget," Harry continued in a saccharine tone of voice. "I am expecting a very important guest tomorrow. They owled me last evening to say that they would be arriving at 10 am sharp and that they expect the entire family to be present. Including Dudley."
A soft thunk, as of something heavy dropping onto the carpeted floor, rang out at his words. Good. That meant his aunt had heard him and correctly interpreted his annoyance. Which meant that Harry could give it one last twist to make sure the point fully sank in.
"You and Uncle Vernon have, aside from some small periods of forgetfulness, done a passable job in regards to helping me this summer. But it would be best to continue this good behaviour up to the last second lest you violate the terms of our agreement. Got it?"
This time the sound of shuffling feet was rather loud as it headed away from his position. His aunt had gotten his message and given up the pretence of remaining hidden, instead choosing to beat a hasty retreat. Harry doubted, however, that she was off to get him a pickle as his news regarding Sirius' imminent arrival had most likely thrown her into a terrible tizzy.
Oh well. Harry shrugged his shoulders and carried the meal into his incredibly room. He chose a relatively clear section to sit down, whereupon he set to enjoying the simple meal with gusto.
While he ate, Harry also split his time and attention by catching up on the large stack of letters Hedwig had dropped off earlier that morning.
One of the biggest bright spots of the summer had been the increased number of letters. Whether it was Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Sirius, Remus or even the Twins and the rest of Harry's teammates on the Gryffindor Quidditch squad, Harry had exchanged a boatload of letters with virtually every person he knew.
Hermione's constant messaging had been a given – his best friend had done much the same every year before –, but the letters between them had also included much more than just the usual updates on schoolwork and research. Harry could not put his finger on what exactly had changed, but he was certain something had. Each letter filled him with a warmth that he had never really gathered from her letters in prior summers, and Harry often found himself taking them out to re-read whenever he took a break from his own studies.
So far, his favourite letter had been the one Hermione had written from a beach side resort in the south of France. She had included all sorts of details about her location, as well as the fact that her parents wanted to take her to tour the local Magical School. She had also offhandedly mentioned that she wished that he were there to accompany her, and that she thought he would have enjoyed several of the locales she had visited with her parents.
Reading that Hermione missed him and was thinking of him had caused Harry's stomach to go through all sorts of flops. He had spent nearly two hours working on his response to the letter and had only sent it after an impatient Hedwig had begun nipping his earlobes. Harry had glared at his snowy white familiar, only to soon wilt under her golden-eyed stare; a post script to the letter in which he complained to Hermione about Hedwig's iron-clawed tactics had only garnered him another, harsher nip from the much too-smart animal.
The letters Harry received from Ron, on the other hand, were far easier to read and reply. Harry's best male friend had kept him updated on all the happenings going on regarding the World Quidditch Cup. The tournament was scheduled to begin soon and was being held in England for the first time in centuries. According to the excitable redhead, while the national teams of Ireland and Bulgaria were the acknowledged favourites to reach the finals, Ron was rather bullish on England's chances to knock out Ireland if they both made it to the quarterfinals.
While Ireland had the better team overall, the English were supposed to be nearly as good. Their seeker, Hardwin Bumblepop, was supposed to be better than the Irish Team's Aidan Lynch. His presence was the reason why Ron favoured them; according to him, Bumblepop was the only Seeker who could possibly give Bulgaria's Ace and Quidditch Phenom, Viktor Krum, a run for his money.
Knowing the boy's taste in local Quidditch teams as he did, though, Harry took Ron's words with a grain of salt. If the national team played anything like the Chudley Cannons, then there was not much hope for them. Harry just hoped that they would do better than their Muggle equivalent, where it looked as though the Americans would be taking home the Cup this year.
Meanwhile, the letters from Sirius and Remus had been filled with stories of a string of summer adventures. And though things had seemed to somewhat calm down with the appearance of several witches related to Sirius, Harry hoped they could sneak in one or two more adventures when he joined them. The two men seemed to have so much fun together that it made Harry, cooped up and alone in the Dursley household, rather envious.
All of those letters alone would have made Harry's summer. So when the letters from Ginny, Dobby, Neville, and the rest had arrived, Harry had found himself unexpectedly – and quite nicely – inundated with unsought correspondences. Some of which posed interesting problems for him to solve.
Over the course of several rather long and winding letters, Ginny had written to Harry and asked his advice on a number of subjects. They ranged from what courses he thought she should take next year to whether Harry thought she should try out as a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Harry had written back to tell her to avoid Divination at all costs, but that otherwise she should feel free to choose whatever seemed interesting. As for Quidditch try-outs, while Harry doubted that the pretty redhead could outfly any of the brilliant trio of girls Gryffindor currently had at the position, all three of the team's reserve players had graduated last year along with Oliver Wood. If Ginny were to do well in the try-outs, then she could at least make it onto the team as a reserve player.
Her reply to his advice had been enthusiastic to say the least, and reading it had brought Harry a warm feeling. In spite of her feelings for him and the discomfort they brought him, it felt good to see the young girl finally coming out of her shell. Harry had not forgotten her assistance in destroying the Horcrux and hoped that it could serve as a sort of new beginning for the two of them.
Though that particular thought had caused Harry to smack his forehead in exasperation. Because if the only way he could make friends with people was to take them on potentially life-threatening adventures, as he had done with Hermione and Ron, and now Ginny, then there was a good chance he was doomed to make very few friends in life.
Meanwhile, the most surprising letter Harry had received thus far had been a rather dry note from Professor McGonagall. It had been presaged by the only real mishap of the summer thus far when a bumbling Hogwarts owl had flown into his room to deliver the official envelope. The poor, hapless animal had dropped the letter directly onto the face of a sleeping Hedwig. After which it had given a proud hoot at accomplishing its mission and extended a claw towards Harry for payment.
Enraged by the intruder's temerity while in her territory, Harry's familiar had launched herself at the ignorant offender in a furious rage. A flurry of feathers later had seen the terrified Hogwarts owl literally winging away from the house as fast as it could with Hedwig in hot pursuit. Harry's owl had not returned until much later than was her norm, and the scattering of foreign feathers clustered around her beak had not spoken well as to the other owl's fate.
As for the letter the poor owl had risked its life to bring, in it Harry's Head of House had asked him if Harry had reached a decision regarding his classes for the new year; the deadline for class changes was fast approaching, and a response was needed if he wished to change courses.
Alarmed that he had allowed it to slide – and horrified at the thought of spending another year of classes in Professor Trelawney's terrible tower – Harry had scribbled down his reply after a quick perusal of the upcoming classes to be offered at Hogwarts. He had already consulted with Hermione and Remus about what course to pick and, although he had been waffling between several, in the end he had decided to go with one of the new courses which would be taught at Hogwarts this year for the first time in centuries. The field it studied was closely associated with two of the greatest magic users of all time, so Harry figured that it would be hard to go wrong with choosing it.
Once his decision was written – and the letter safely held in the talons of a sharp-eyed Hedwig – the Game of Death had given him a short notification saying that he had successfully managed to switch courses. After which it had fallen silent and refused to divulge any further information on the subject, which Harry figured meant that he would need to start learning or practising the new type of magic before the Game told him anything new.
Harry finished his meal and let out a satisfied burp. Then he wiped his hands, put the last touches on a pair of letters to Neville and Dobby, and stood up.
After placing the letters in a stack next to Hedwig's perch for the owl to deliver when she was ready, Harry moved around his room and began to pack things up. He placed his clothes and wizarding paraphernalia into his school trunk and made sure that the rest of his belongings were squared away. Anything of importance was secured, and everything he did not want – basically, the many hand-me-downs from Dudley – were tossed in various piles throughout the room.
By the time Harry had finished it was well into night. Which meant that his next item of business was to try and sleep, because tomorrow would be a big day.
A/N: Just as a minor mea culpa, I am not all that familiar with 2nd edition D&D rules; I've merely dabbled with them on occasion. My first real D&D experiences came in the era of 3.5 and I am far more familiar with 5.0's ruleset. Which is basically a long-winded way of saying that I won't be limiting myself to 2.0's rather outdated system.
Buuuuuut since 2.0 was the latest edition available back in 1994, that means it's the one which my version of Harry has explored. Along with a side helping of video games that were around at the time that I have only just begun to namedrop lol. You know, back when Mario, Zelda, and company were the reigning kings of video games, and faithful D&D based ones like Baldur's Gate I and II and Neverwinter Night were still years away. Let alone the current morass of MMO, FPS, Pay to Win, and 'Free to Play' nonsense in which gaming is currently mired :-(
As an aside, I got the idea for making charisma the power modifier for magic in this story from my first experience with the Sorcerer class in D&D 3.5. Although the Wizard class of that era blew it out of the water in both flexibility and sheer power (death to enemies and allies alike, muwahahahahaha), I've never forgotten how interesting the Sorcerer class was as a concept.
Until Next Time,
Elsil
