November 22nd, 2022

He couldn't stop staring at his hands. They were attached to the rest of him; moved as he commanded and when he curled his fingers he could feel his nails digging into his gloved palm. He could control them and feel them but they weren't his hands. He supposed they were about the right size and they shared the same skin colour - from what he could see of the rest of him, anyway - but they weren't his.

The fingerless gloves that he was wearing were leather. The scars, small and sliver that reached from his knuckles and his nail bed were missing, and so were the callouses he'd built up. Heck, even his nails were different, no longer bitten through from stress and grieve. No, they were still short but perfectly rounded with a smooth edge.

This sort of technology was incredible, but also unnerving.

As distracted as he'd been, Harry nearly got blown over when someone - a player - ran full force into him. The impact jolted him but the guy barely stopped to speak as he waved apologetically at Harry but continued on his way.

'Scusi!' the boy called much to Harry's confusion. Harry had had some experience with French from Fleur and her sister from long nights and bruises and broken hopes. Definitely hadn't sounded like German or Bulgarian that'd fall fro Victor's sharp mouth, sound all right angles.

When another player pushed passed him, Harry decided that it was probably best that he moved his arse out of the - what had Dudley called it? - the spawning point? It sounded brilliantly strange to Harry, but he'd already been taught how behind the times he was.

Still, this place - this game was beautiful. Harry had never quite seen anywhere like it, and as he stepped out of the Room of Resurrection, and out into what looked like a courtyard. The sky was blue and the sun was out and in full force. It all seemed very European until Harry noted the weather.

It was no real wonder that Dudley was raving about Sword Art Online. It seemed almost dreamlike with its bright colours and its peaceful scenery. Harry's eyes kept roaming but there was so much to see, so much detail from the stones under his feet, to the fountain just ahead and the houses just further around him.

There was a lot of players, Dudley had hinted as much but…he disliked crowds, even when they weren't paying him any attention. It was unsettling. Too many people that Harry couldn't keep an eye on them. There was nowhere out in the open that Harry could wait without leaving his back open, so he settled near the fountain, on one of the benches.

Players were bustling around him with a fluidity of motion that hadn't been possible in the other games Dudley had made him play, with a freedom of expression that Harry hadn't thought possible. And everyone seemed so…happy, excited.

It'd been so long since Harry had had anything to look forward to, that he couldn't begin to relate. Dudley seemed more animated once the Nervegears had arrived, but he'd been more worried, with a level of consideration Harry hadn't thought his cousin had been capable of.

Dudley's change in attitude had been enough for Harry to agree to using the Nervegear. Honestly, this whole situation was strange. When Kingsley had taken him to his relatives new house, he'd expected outrage but not the type he got. Not outrage on his behalf. He definitely hadn't expected his cousin to let him in with a constipated expression of worry, a strained smile and to share words that lacked animosity, that were amicable.

Everything else was equal only to the twilight zone.

(No other magical creature would allow something to mess with their heads - never mind a muggle something. That their magic could quite by accident, make go boom. But Harry had… Fuck, what was he doing?)

'Har - dude!' The voice is the only thing Harry recognises as he turns to the left and sees a player waving, arm in the air while trying to fit through the gaps to Harry. The closer he gets, Harry thinks he might recognise Dudley around the eyes but finds that his alias is long forgotten.

Harry stands to meet Dudley half-way though, smoothly without problems with his lame leg. (That was nice, to be relieved of the deep seated ache. To move like he could before.) He glances to the left of Dudley's head, where he'd been told to look for a players' ID. Sure enough, Decha, Lv1 could be read clear enough.

No wonder Harry hadn't been able to remember it. That was so weird! Was it even English? 'What'd you do…hit your face with the keyboard?' He pointed in the general direction of the "ID gauge" when Dudley frowned.

'Oh shut up,' Dudley responded with a roll of his eyes. '"Choice".'

Harry grimaced in an acknowledgement that, yeah, that hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had. Dudley had demanded he find something to call himself and Harry had drawn a specular blank. Naming himself after a moniker he'd rather not have had been uninspired. (He was just so cynical now that he felt a real connection with Snape. Because what was more ironic than a "Chosen One" with no choice?)

'Man, this is weird,' Dudley breathes as he stares at Harry with wide eyes.

That was one way to put it. Though Harry had had experience with Polyjuice, there was something different about this. It was almost like…Tonks, when she transformed herself but left enough behind for it to still be her. Dudley, himself had made some odd changes by giving himself a shallower jaw and by darkening his hair to black. His cheeks were a tad sharper and his ears seemed larger and flatter.

Dudley's bodybuilder figure he'd spent who knows how long cultivating since Harry had left, having trimmed down and bulked up with muscle - was more streamlined, though there hadn't been much altered of his body.

'Well, we might try moving around a bit,' Dudley says, gesturing to the entrance to the city a lot of the other players were disappearing into.

'Right.' Harry stands and is still marvelling at his ease of movement when Dudley stops them.

'Oh, hold on. We haven't friended each other.'

Harry blinked up at Dudley. 'Oh…'

'Oi, don't stare off to space. I've gone through nearly my entire Stream library with you. You remember what Friending is, right?'

The concept was a bit…board but Harry nodded. With a lot of the multiplayer Harry had played, he'd just used one of Dudley's spare accounts and hadn't had to do much outside play the actual game. 'How do we…' Harry monitors between them in question.

'Okay, so.' Dudley raises his hand and while lifting it into the air, pinched his thumb and forefinger together and swipes downwards. Following the arc of his movement, icons slide into place in front of him.

Dudley pulled Harry over to see, all but tucking Harry into his side. The icons and singer tab stood, solid as Dudley demonstrated. 'So, see this,' Dudley mutters as he navigates through the menu options like this wasn't the first time he'd played Sword Art Online.

It hadn't taken ten seconds before a popup appeared before Harry and he almost jumped out of his skin.

Invite

Decha Sends A Friend Request. Do You Accept?

[O] [X]

Harry stared at it as he tried to figure out how it worked. Dudley must have gotten a bit bored because he sighed. 'You tap on the circle to accept and the cross to deny, Wizard,' he informed, exasperation clear as day. Harry quickly pressed the blue circle.

'What's the deal with how it works?' Harry inquires as the window closes and he looks back to Dudley.

'Pretty similar to other friends lists. You can check a friend's position on a map, see their status, send private messages. Stuff like that,' Dudley enumerates before clapping Harry on the shoulder. He blinks when he feels the weight where Dudley touches him. That was…a bit unsettling. 'Don't go friending any weirdos, okay?'

'Unlikely,' Harry mutters.

'Har - Choice.' Dudley frowns. 'I…dude. I know you been through some sh - stuff. But not every thing's safe online, you gotta be careful. Don't you remember any of those internet safety talks we got during primary school? I know you ain't exactly a kid, Harry, and that…that you've gone up against terrorists but this is a different sort of danger, that you kind of need to be aware of.'

'I…didn't mean to make light of anything,' Harry says eventually.

Dudley sighs. 'I know you didn't,' he concedes. 'Look, I get that you're a good judge of character. You had me pegged at five but you've gotten used to a certain type of guy, yeah? Evil and mad and not…bad and sick. So, I dunno. Just, remember….there's trouble here too. There's other stuff out there then the type you've seen.'

Harry's chagrin in increased and he couldn't help bit feel smaller at that moment, because his last intention was to make Dudley think that he didn't take more non-magical centric problems seriously. It'd just been so long. 'I…remember the internet safety talk,' Harry returns quietly. 'A police officer came in after Betty had gone out to see someone she'd met online, without telling her parents. She didn't come back to school after that.'

Dudley blinked. 'Yeah…Betty.' He nodded but his tone was distance. 'Just…think about who you're talkin' to, if we ever get separated. Don't share any personal information. No one here needs to know anything like that.'

'…Guess "Decha" is something that I'll actually have to use, huh?' Harry grins weakly.

'Why'd you think I made you do at that sh- stuff?' Dudley demands, which is fair. Harry had taken a long time doing it, mainly because Dudley had usually been the one to do that type of stuff with the other games he'd gotten involved in. 'You are who you created.'

'Very philosophical,' Harry comments but raises his hands when Dudley growls. 'I'm sorry, I'll be careful. I promise.'

Dudley huffs but lets it go. 'C'mon, there's more to see than this.'

'Right,' Harry agrees but allows himself the acknowledgement that he'd been a bit blinded, and that Dudley seemed to be genuinely trying to look out for Harry. He was right too. Voldemort wasn't the only thing out there and he wasn't invincible.

Maybe pure-blood supremacy was contagious. If so, Harry was starting to understand the problems Wizarding Britain suffered from. Muggles could be a threat to him as much as a person with magic. He needed to get off his high house. Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Harry's silent apology was to allow his cousin to drag him around this game - this world; Aincrad. It didn't take the hours he was there to see how remarkable it was, as Dudley spent time and effort to share the knowledge he learnt through forums and news. Merlin, there was so much to this place. It was so…complicated. It felt so three dimensional with its rules and themes, and the people too.

It was very different to the games Harry had experienced before.

Dudley had shown him around Starting City first, through the houses and the shops, eateries until they visited the market. Dudley had wanted some weaponry and gear and this was the cheapest place for it. They had both been given an amount of currency to start them out, but it wasn't much "Cor" so they had to be careful with what they bought.

In the end, Dudley had gone for a Broadsword and a Wooden Shield. He'd mentioned how he wanted to play on the strength stat, and suggested Harry decide on the weapon with the style of combat that would best suit the attributes he wanted. Harry had taken a bit of time, contemplating between different types of swords that was in his price range, and his ability, before Harry had shrugged and decided to hell with it.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking away from the market with a Bronze sword, a Butter Knife and a Wooden Staff sitting in Harry's inventory. Dudley had been a bit perplexed at Harry's apparent indecision, but seemed to have shrugged it off with a 'it's your skill slots you'll confuse.' It was nice to see that SAO had a weapon variety for a game that obviously wanted to emphasise swords, but Harry had been taught the important of being prepared.

On their way out, they'd also purchased some Potions and a Transport Crystal. With little Cor between them, Dudley had taken him to some seating outside a cafe to teach him how to equip weaponry and the like. Harry had decided on using the staff simply to aid Dudley's reach with his sword.

(Mad-Eye's training hadn't just included the paranoid auror beating the crap out of him. Harry had also been taught how to strategise, that real battle required a lot more than running in half-cocked and attempting to overpower his opponent. And a lesson from Mad-Eye is a lesson learnt. Painfully.)

Once Harry had gotten the handle of that, Dudley was leading him out of Starting City and out into the wild, which was just was stunning as the rest of what he'd seen. Though it'd been a bit of a shock when Harry'd seen a boar materialise in front of him. Dudley had drawn his sword then, in front of a field full of animals and Harry was quick to follow.

That had started a session of "follow the leader", whereby Dudley would show him how to attack the boars and Harry copied him. He wasn't always successful as Harry didn't always trust the mechanics of the game for him to take over. He was a fighter. He was used to his body following his commands, but there was little of that here.

The "sword skills" Dudley had mentioned were…tedious.

'You've got to get into the right position to activate them. We've only got Horizontal and Horizontal Arc, but those are the easiest to unlock,' Dudley said in one of their breaks. 'They do a lot more damage so it's better if you try.'

'I am trying,' Harry had protested. 'It's…just difficult, letting the system and then I get stuck like that.'

'Yeah, the cool down is meant to even out the advantages of sword skills,' Dudley had agreed. 'But it's not all that different to one an opponent gets you into a corner, and your relaxes are too slow to make a counter. You've just got to start thinking of it as a separate thing.'

'..right,' Harry said thoughtfully.

He'd done better after that.

More players had swarmed their area the longer they were there but it hadn't been…terrible. Eventually, Dudley had defeated the last boar going for them and he'd turned to Harry. 'Wanna finish here?' he'd asked.

Harry had been good with that and sheathed his weapon, and allowed himself to be guided up to one of the hills. They sat there, watching as the sky turned orange. Harry finds himself relaxing as the temperature begins to cool with the setting of the sun. 'Why…'

'Hm?' Dudley inquires from where he is laid out by Harry's side.

'Why are things only focused when I'm looking at them?' Harry asks because it was actually pretty distracting.

'Saves render and loading time,' Dudley responds like that makes all that much sense to Harry. 'I'll explain better tomorrow. Or…later today.'

Harry blinks. 'We've been in here that long?'

'Suggesting you've enjoyed yourself, wizard?' Dudley smirks then, looking way too pleased with himself. As they fall into silence again, Dudley points out into the distance. 'What do they look like? In your world?'

Harry follows Dudley's hand and squints at dragons flying in the sky. He finds himself snorting. If a pure-blood saw that they'd have a heart attack. 'They're too…pretty,' Harry decides after a pause of watching the colourful beasts. 'Not that dragons aren't - you know, and I guess dragons look different everywhere. But, the ones I've seen are…rougher.'

Dudley laughs through a yawn. 'Suppose that's to be expected.'

Harry shrugs at that. 'You lot do a lot better at interpreting a world you either don't know exists or don't believe in, than we do, when we can flit in-between.' He can't quite stop the scowl. Even Dumbledore with his pro-muggleborn rhetoric never bothered to learn anything about people, or cultures that lived and had developed outside of magic.

'It's pretty funny, when you think about it.' Harry laughs dully because it really, really wasn't. 'As intolerable as they accuse you lot of being, I see the same attitudes there when mug - when your lot actually try and think of things outside of your realm of possibility. With…fantasy and sci-fi and I get that it's not perfect, but…'

Harry was somewhat mortified to feel tears clog his vision, to feel the burning in his eyes. Why programme something like that? Who wants to be able to cry in a game? No one. Harry grits his teeth and glares them away.

Perhaps it was an issue of his. Something else to bury away because thinking about stuff like this never helped. Seeing the problems wasn't - Harry wasn't able to help them. At the end of the day, it didn't matter that he had defeated Voldemort. ('Killed him, Harry!') ('What is wrong without you?! Why did you have to end this in more bloodshed?!') To've made a difference at all, he'd have to defeat the thing that'd caused Voldemort and how'd someone like him do something like that?

'Choice,' Dudley says, propping himself up with his arm before shifting into a sitting position. He was concerned, Harry could see that and wasn't that amazing? Harry hadn't thought it'd be possible for his relatives to feel anything but hatred, and that was misguided because children learnt better and his aunt's feelings towards him, Harry was starting to realise - had little to do with him at all. And Vernon - that man would have disliked him regardless.

Non-magicals weren't -

Everything was wrong.

'I think I'm getting a bit tired, er…Decha,' Harry states. 'I'm going to go on ahead.' With a flick of his wrist, his menu faithfully scrolls in front of him. He peers at it for a moment, while trying his damnedest to ignore Dudley's worried expression as he looks over the different icons. It was the clog he was after and he taps it quickly.

| Options

| Help

Harry frowned as he read the tab. He'd been sure that that was were the log out button should have been. Turning to Dudley who was watching him cautiously, he points towards his menu. 'I…er, where was it again?'

With a sigh of great suffering, Dudley's chin briefly bent low enough to greet his leather armour. 'Ha - Choice, I showed you -' Dudley had just opened his own and selected the same clog icon that Harry had, as he watches from Dudley's side. His words peter out and his expression becomes troubled.

'Dud - Decha?' Harry asks but Dudley just stands and Harry is quick to follow.

Dudley is thumbing the button for the Game Master that has opened another window with a cartoon character, appearing as an old man who donned a beard and robe, but who also had a ripple effect distorting the image. Harry guessed it was loading.

'What's the matter?' Harry asks as his heartbeat starts to pick up. 'Has something gone wrong?'

'Yeah, sort of,' Dudley muttered in distraction. 'The log out buttons gone. Which is - yeah. Bad. I'm trying get hold of the Game Master but he's not -' Dudley's obviously a little panicked and rambling as the presses the button a few more times. And each time, when nothing changes, Harry's unease grows.

'What does that mean? We're not stuck, are we?' Harry tried to keep his voice level but that was very difficult as his unease evolved into something darker, while the sun vanished over the horizon.

'I don't know.' Dudley's answer did not fill Harry with confidence. 'It depends on how long it's been a problem. If it's been missing since the launch than it should've already been fixed but…I dunno. This sort of thing shouldn't happen; maybe in the alpha, but…'

'So,' Harry prompts uneasily. He knew basic things about games from Dudley forcing him to spend most of his free time playing them, but he was still very new to them and the terminology.

Dudley stares at the Game Master before meeting Harry's gaze. 'It's a pretty serious problem. With how the Nervegear works, it's not like we can take the headset off manually, we need the log out button.'

Harry was never without some kind of caution or fear so he knew what it tasted like. Bitting his lip, he wondered if he could make it bleed. He reaches out a hand to grasp hold of Dudley's arm. 'D-Dudley,' he says, can't help the name that falls out of his mouth or the unsteadiness of his voice. 'My - my magic…'

His consciousness had never been "outside" his body before, he'd never been disconnected from his magic. A few hours, Dudley had said, and Harry had thought that can't do that much damage. But, if they were stuck for longer…

And suddenly panic was there too, with the caution and the fear because Harry knew of wizards and witches that didn't use their magic; heard about how their cores became unstable, resulting in explosions and insanity and mutations -

'Calm down.'

Dudley was shaking him.

'Harry, you need to calm down.'

Why was Dudley shaking him?

'People will already be aware of this. They'll already be looking at the problem and if they can fix the button, they should just be able to shut down the servers. We won't be here long, nothings gonna happen with your magic,' Dudley was telling him, his hands on the tops of Harry's shoulders firm and tight. 'There's nothing wrong with you, but you need to breathe.'

Harry had never been good at being told what to do, but he found himself sucking in a desperate breath. He was staring into his cousin's wide eyes. wishing - wishing more than anything they weren't his shade of grey.

Gradually, Harry forced himself to relax and all but slumped into Dudley's chest. 'Sorry,' he whispered in exhaustion. That had been…an overreaction. Dudley awkwardly petted his back. 'You've become better at this.'

Dudley snorts roughly but doesn't move away. 'I ever tell you about Alfie?'

Apropos of nothing. 'No,' Harry roughly replies.

'Alfie's this guy at my gym, he's a scrawny guy but he's really good in the ring,' Dudley says slowly. 'He kind of reminded me of you, for a bit actually. But he had some problems, like he'd get these panic attacks so Coach had to give us a talk about it.'

'Useful,' Harry mutters into leather.

Dudley makes an agreeing noise, hands firm but gentle again Harry's back. He hadn't know Dudley had been cable of any kind of care. 'Coach was really strict about it cuz Alfie had been through some shit but he was one of us, innit? So Coach - he brought this therapist in,' he explains attentively. 'I ain't that great at it, but…'

Harry wasn't used to people touching him, not in a way that had any kindness to it. Hermione, a bit like Mrs Weasley, used to give him these glomps that demanded his attention. Ron hadn't been much of a hugger but he'd clap Harry on the back, nudge Harry's side, touch Harry's wrists; tactile things to remind him that he was there. Sirius had been more reserved - cautious, but his hugs were the warmest out of everyone even if they were mourning, sorrowful things that had Harry needing to cling back.

Dudley was all his own, in his space like Hermione but awkward like Ron. And - and like Sirius, Dudley held him like he'd disappear. Harry hesitantly hugs back. He takes a breath, tries to take Dudley's advice of breathing. 'Sorry,' he whispers in exhaustion. The freakout had been - completely unwarranted.

'Don't go apologisin' for this. Idiot.' Dudley huffs as Harry calms down, is starting to relax when the sound of a gong cuts through the calm. It continues to ring like a bell that would cling at a funeral march. It was unnerving and unexpected as it echoed around them, from no apparent origin.

Harry looked up to Dudley's confused face. 'What -?' He hadn't even finished his question when his vision whited out. Briefly, it felt like his body was floating, pins and needles spreading through his limbs before he materialised again, and the environment settled around him.

Blinking back the lights in his eyes, Harry soon realised that the training meadow he'd been was gone. Now, he was standing in the square of Starting City with a mass of players that were popping up around him.

'We've - been transported,' Dudley tells him tensely. His arms remain around Harry, tightening in this unknown situation they find themselves in and Harry allows it, allows it because he doesn't know what's happening. He doesn't want to move, needs an explanation.

'Maybe…they've brought us here for an announcement?' he asks above the symphony of other confused voices. It was a reasonable suggestion if the forced teleportation hadn't sounded like the rustle of doxy rings, and Harry's intuition wasn't prickling at his brain like an itch he couldn't reach.

Harry's dominant hand twitches for a wand that doesn't even exist here, when a mechanical sound from above alerts them to the flashing text that's hanging above The Room of Resurrection. The symbol blinks in and out, the colour red:

Warning.

That…doesn't sound good, Harry thinks lamely. His fight or flight instincts are tinging through the senses, too real to be part of the system. One of his hands jumps up to grasp hold of Dudley's chest plate, his unfamiliar fingers digging into the rough leather in an attempt to keep his cousin close. It was stupid - stupid because Dudley hadn't tried to move away.

'This isn't…' Dudley begins, but if he finishes Harry doesn't hear it as the warning popups start to multiple; splintering across the sky until they are creating a dome of crimson. The imagery is disturbing as blood starts to leak through the creases, moulding into something horrific as the blood starts to droop into a sack like cyst.

Numbly, Harry can feel something like sickness begin to build. He can barely stand the sight of blood now though he has been stoically bearing it for years, there has been too much of it for him to be unaffected by it now.

His mind automatically winds back, traitorously reminding him of things Harry'd much rather forget. Like Hermione's busted lip or the scrapes that lined Ginny's hands. Ron's broken, bitten leg. The slash cutting through Fleur's pretty face. Cedric's corpse which had been beaten and cut up from the maze and its creatures, before he'd been killed.

Stop it, Harry tells himself because the war had been worse - in the war everyone was hurt; bleeding and dying. He can still smell the decay sometimes. No one realises what death smells like, because it isn't just the rot. It's the sweat that lingers, iron that makes the air heavy and the nausea from the ammonia, as the bowls emptied.

There wasn't anything romantic or glamours about death. Every time Harry saw blood he'd remember. He'd remember all the things he'd wish he could forget.

So distracted with this is he, that he can barely focus on the red growth transforming into something humanoid. A character emerges, wearing a cloak with the hood up, indistinguishable from gender or face but that's not what makes Harry's breath catch.

There is no face.

They have no face.

There was just black shadows and smoke that evaporates like mist, albeit purple mist. This - this avatar was like a giant among ants as they loomed over them; a god among mortals, as lightning sparks off of their clock from their generation, blood still dripping. Still red.

'De…' Harry whispers, or tries, can't quite bring himself to finish what he started. This is a game - something Dudley had asked him to play with him, like tens of other games they'd experienced together.

This didn't feel like an event or a cutscene, or anything else that Harry had experienced. This was setting off all of Harry's suspicions. Harry felt scared and daft for feeling such, because this could be nothing - this could just be —

Dudley starts to rub his back, but his cousin's concentration is entirely on the figure towering over them. When the avatar started to speak, it is in a language Harry recognises as Asian but he doesn't comprehend a word as he stares at the avatar stupidly.

'Bro,' Dudley murmurs lowly and Harry pulls his eyes away long enough for Dudley to point down, towards the twin popups in front of them which Harry hadn't noticed. He blinks at the screen and realises after a moment of vacantly goggling that this must be a translation.

| Attention players.

The text was sharp and the more the avatar spoke, the more words appeared. Harry was apprehensive from looking away from the unknown avatar, but there wasn't a lot of choice in the matter as more and more words appeared.

| I welcome you to my world! You may know the Game Master avatar as Akihiko Kayaba but things are not as they seem; this is not a tutorial, and I am in control now.

What? Harry thinks as he tries to read the rough translation again. This sounded off, something was very wrong.

| I'm sure most of you have noticed by now that there is something missing from your main menus: the log out button.

They do not speak the same language but Harry shudders at the tone "Kayaba" deploys. It was too - conversational, polite but in the same way McGonagall had been to Umbridge every time that bitch stepped into her classroom or questioned her teaching, or really any time they shared air.

| Let me assure you that this is not a defect in the game.

No, Harry thinks.

| I repeat: this is not a defect. This was how my Sword Art Online was designed to be.

'Dudley?'

Dudley looks disturbed and almost staggers an inch back at the re-introduction to Harry's voice. 'I - I. Don't…know. I don't -'

| You will not be able to log yourselves out of SAO and no one from the outside will be able to shut down, or remove the Nervegear.

What? But - how…was that possible?

| If anyone attempts to do so a transmitter inside the Nervegear will discharge a signal into your skull. This will destroy your brain and end your life.

'That - that can't be true, can it?' Harry asks instantly, as soon as he'd absorbed what he'd read. Dudley looked - he looked devastated and without words, Harry understood that this was no sick hoax.

'There's this - t-this transmitter inside the Nervegear. The EU nearly banned it because of - without this safety protocol, it's - it's like a microwave. If that was disabled…' Dudley stutters. Harry had never seen Dudley look like this before; with dawning realisation of a terror right over the horizon. Or maybe he had, what felt like a life time ago when dementors had interrupted the flow of Dudley's life.

Harry couldn't swallow but he could feel the beat of his heart, saw how his vision was palpitating as he stares at his cousin. 'But…Aunt Petunia will be able to unplug us, right?'

Slowly, Dudley shook his head. 'The Nervegear has an internal battery. It was just a recommendation to keep the headset plugged in.'

Harry's eyes widen. The words didn't quite…reach. They in fact seemed to echo, emptily. He could not truly find their meaning as a spark lit, flickered in the back of mind. It would not come forward.

| Despite the warning I sent to the authorities, families and friends have already attempted removing the Nervegear. An unfortunate decision, to say the least.

Unfortunate?

A cold fury ignites in his belly. Something that Harry had grown familiar with recognising, with smothering until he barely feels it at all. It hadn't been needed, had made him reckless. It had been one of the first thing to change. Unfortunate?!

| As a result Aincrad has two-hundred and thirteen less players than when it began.

Two-hundred and thirteen? Harry's head screamed. The feeling of his legs turning to jelly wasn't quite right, like it didn't translate like the words on the screen but Harry was surprised that he could sense that sort of thing at all. Is that why the range of feeling was so intense? To give this despicable person more to play with?

And if that were true - if parents and friends and whoever were waking up to the realisation that one of their loved one's was stuck, and tried to remove the Nervegear - if that were real… The Dursley's don't listen to anyone, even if it was to their own detriment. They always thought they were better. Now, if this was happening -

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He'd survived his so-called childhood and Dumbledore's manipulations. He'd made it out the other side of a war, and he'd thought - stupidly - that things had been settling down. That Harry might be able to move onto something halfway normal. And now this? A non-magical game? The Malfoy's will be laughing over his grave.

| They've been deleted from both Aincrad and the real world.

"Deleted"? Harry thought. How…clinical, how detached.

His eyes flickered from the translator's screen to Kayaba and his jaw almost dropped when he saw the holo-screens encircling the avatar. Sweet Mother Magic. Each display presented news articles and TV footage, all from around the world highlights.

| As you can see, international media outlets now have around the clock coverage of the events occurring around SAO. Deaths included. Congratulations, you've all made it to celebrity status until the world moves on and shifts its focus onto something else. Twenty-four hour news cycle and all that, you'll understand.

'What time is it back home?' Harry finds himself asking, mind twisting in a hundred different directions. Kayaba's cynicism barely touches the sides. It said a lot about Kayaba's mind that he thought that this wouldn't be a pressing issue for long, that this could be swept away.

Dudley's response is automatic. 'Two. About two in the morning…'

Two. Petunia wouldn't be up at this hour. Harry had hours to prepare - to do something for Dudley if plugs were pulled, because his aunt would start with him; wouldn't risk her "ikle Dudder's". She'd start with Harry if Petunia didn't panic.

| At this point, with all attempts to remove the Nervegear unsuccessful, it's safe to assume that the chances that the geniuses who will be drafted to free you, Players' of Aincrad, figuring out a war to disarm the Nervegears are slim. Minimal at best.

Harry was oddly reminded of Dumbledore, how that man would talk to him in such a fashion that it became easy enough to see what the man was pushing for. Harry'd heard this type of acceptance speech before. It was not new to Harry.

| I hope this brings you comfort as you forget your previous lives and move forward here, in Aincrad.

'Comfort?' Harry echoes dully.

| As now official players of Aincrad, there are rules you must remember if you wish to survive. The first being the most important: there is no longer a way to revive someone. Once your life points hit zero, you will die and you will stay dead.

No, Harry thinks.

| Your physical body will also be killed. The system will delete you and the Nervegear will simultaneously destroy your brain. I would suggest to avoid this, or not. How you play with your life is entirely up to you. If you wish to end it early than the choice is yours to make.

NO!

No -

no. Harry didn't want another bloodbath - couldn't stand to be apart of anymore death. He'd already seen too much, participated in one too many. There was already so much destruction that could laid at his feet, attached to his name.

| You are able to live any way you wish. Aincrad will accommodate you.

Live? In a game?

| If you wish to leave then there is one thing you must do: an achievement you must reach. Clear the game.

The letters Harry were reading was cold and unemotional and were translated from a cold, unemotional voice. It was - weird. Voldemort had never been so impassive. Not one character Harry had met had ever been so unexpressive before, with this air of nonchalance and mock coyness.

| Right now, we're located on the first floor; the lowest level of Aincrad. To advance you must fight your way through the floor dungeon and defeat the boss. When you defeat the boss on the one-hundredth floor, you will clear the game.

One-hundred floors?! But - but that would take so much time! What would happen to their bodies while they were stuck here? What would - what would happen to Harry's magic? What if - what if his magic short circuited the Nervegear? In the same room as Dudley no less.

| Clear the game and you will be free of Aincrad. You will reach the next stage of enlightenment.

'What're we going to do?' Dudley asks amongst the other players who were quietly talking to each other, trying to make sense of this new reality.

|To make the experience at Aincrad truer to yourselves, I've left a present for each of you in your item storage. Please, do have a look.

Without thought, Harry opened his menu; heard everyone else doing the same as he fumbled clumsily to his storage and the one new item inside. "Mirror."

Cute. Harry blinked, thinking rather despondently. What was this supposed to do? Show us our souls?

Really, Harry should have known better than to select the mirror. Not a second after he had pressed the item button, a handheld mirror was falling into his open palm. Automatically, he looked into it and saw the reflection of his avatar he'd created. The avatar he hadn't been at all bothered with; didn't care what it looked like and just ended up playing around with.

He - he regretted that, now. Harry was going to die with a face that wasn't his own. Like Voldemort.

The more he looked at himself, the less Harry wanted to see and was just averting his gaze when he lit up like a firework gone wrong. Harry blinked, disoriented as the world slowly slotted back into place from the flash. When his vision was back, things seemed - different?

'Harry?' Dudley asks lowly and the sound of Harry's name, is enough to turn his head away from the bewilderment surrounding them. When he glances up he is confronted with strawberry blond hair, blue eyes and the strong bone structure Harry had grown to know over the past months. The muscled body encompassing Harry was all so - Dudley.

'You - ' Harry's breath hitches and registers rather slowly that he was shorter than before. He'd made his avatar a bit taller. 'We look like ourselves,' he says, muddled and alarmed. He stares at his cousin, looks around to the other player's who have changed and whose ID gauges he could no longer see. "Decha's" was the only one visible in his sight now, his information right under Harry's.

'How?' Harry quietly demands. 'How is this possible?'

Dudley seems to think about it for a moment before something disturbed lights his face. 'You remember that startup scan you had to do? When we were registering your Nervegear you had to put the headset on, visor down and wait for the light to turn on?'

Harry frowns because, yes, he vaguely remembered that but it hadn't seemed too important so he hadn't paid it that much attention. 'The manual said that it was motion capture; to allow the avatar facial movements but…' Dudley trails off, jaw tensing. 'It'd be easy enough to install a camera to see what we looked like.'

Harry looks down at himself. 'And my body? These look like my measurements.'

'That time you had to rub yourself down? You had to touch different points of your body when the visor told you to?' Dudley reminds him with a manic energy of realisation. 'I thought it was a calibration-thing, but….it could've been gathering heights and body types.'

Harry finds himself staring of Dudley's terrified face. But…why? he finds himself thinking. Kayaba's words have all been strange; off. Their agenda for doing this - Harry couldn't imagine and they wanted the players' to have their faces? For what purpose?

'This doesn't make sense,' Harry states to Dudley. Something was very wrong here, aside from just about everything. Motive was missing.

| You may be wondering why a developer of SAO do this? Ultimately, my goal was a simple one: to control the fate of the world.

To play God? Harry thought in disgust.

| I am sure once you have completed my game, that you will see SAO's purpose - as well as your own.

Two-handed and thirteen innocent people were already dead! Did this maniac not understand what that meant?! How could anything be worth that? This sounded like some of Dumbledore's BS where he'd talk about how the ends justified the means, when it never ever did. The loss of life was nothing to contemplate.

| I fear I've taken up enough time. With the end of my speech marks the true beginning of SAO. Players, I wish you the best of luck.

Like the mist that steamed from his hood, Kayaba's body simply dissolved until the robes emptied and the clothe liquified back into blood, which seeped back into the gaps of the ceiling that had blocked out the sky. With little more than a blink, the red dome was gone and the tranquil sunset was returned to normal.

In the aftermath of Kayaba's disappearance, there was an unnatural stillness amongst so many. A tense silence of a world made up of an elastic band pull taunt. There was a build up of anticipation, players' waiting to be told that this was all a joke, a trick but nothing was forthcoming.

The longer the silence stretched out into Aincrad, the more it seemed to dawn on people the new circumstance they found themselves in. Hysteria broke out from the cry of a single fracture, the break of one person's composure. Chaos snapped the false calmness as Harry was soon pushed further into Dudley's hollow chest as players start to panic. Suddenly transported into what felt like the London tubes at rush hour, Harry grabbed a tighter hold of Dudley to ensure they didn't get separated.

There was shouting and screaming and crying as people tried to escape from the square, a space too small for so many of them. Harry realised then, that this wasn't - this wasn't good. Even if they all spoke the same language, were all from the same country, there would be no more talking today. These players were past rationale and who was Harry to them anyway? He didn't have any influence here and he was very out of his element.

Taking an elbow to the gut - barely acknowledging the warning popup, that blinked between him and the player who was already moving on. We have to move, Harry thinks. They couldn't stay here. He'd witnessed mass panic before, in Hogwarts, during the war when the werewolves invaded. It hadn't been pretty and they'd ended up losing half the number from falling down the enchanted staircases, than they did to the actual wolves.

Harry takes Dudley's hand in his own and pulls. Harry didn't know if he were stronger here but Dudley jerks forward to follow Harry's direction, as he forces them through players' too out of it to be paying proper attention to their surroundings. He flicks open his menu and finds the map quick enough - had seen Dudley do it a few times not to get lost.

Starting City was obviously the dot in the centre of floor one and it didn't take much to guess he was the pulsing smaller indicator. So - the closet landmark would take them…south-west. South-east looked like the better choice long term; the landmass was larger but it was further from Starting City, and Harry didn't want to take any risks on so soon. Not with Dudley.

'Har-Choice!' Dudley's stutter-start from behind was enough to jolt Harry out of the map and pay attention to the cousin he was trying to pull away from the others. 'What are you doing? Where are we going?!'

Harry could feel his feet slapping against the floor, the gravity light as he bounded up and down at their speed. There was no limp, no pain, no muscle strain that would have been there if this were real. His bum leg wouldn't be able to take this kind go exercise. It was an unsettling reminder that he was not himself.

He looked over his shoulder at his cousin who wasn't struggling to keep up, who wasn't out of breath. 'We can't stay here; there're too many people,' Harry explains as he tries to tighten his grip on Dudley only to discover he couldn't. He is vehement and louder than he would have liked but with all the noise, he could barely hear himself. 'Even if we don't get trampled, panic makes people violent.'

'That's not how SAO works!' Dudley replies without thought, appearing to be in shock. 'People can't just - start a fight. Towns are safe-zones, you can't lose HP in them. You'd have to demand a duel or an attack would get a Cardinal Warning!'

Harry didn't know what that meant and right now he didn't care. They were not staying here. Apart from the market, it just seemed that this area was mostly housing and the monsters - the mods, or whatever Dudley called them were really weak and Harry didn't know how else to get stronger. Trapping themselves here seemed like an awful idea.

Kayaba wanted them to clear this game, moving forward seemed to be the only way to achieve that. Staying here, right at the start wouldn't do them any good. They had to - to get away.

'I don't think the - the "Cardinal," cares about our safety right now!' Harry calls back. Dudley's face takes on a bit of an ill tinge, expression spasming. 'I know you're the expert on games, Dud - De.' Harry corrects himself, slowing his gait as they reach an empty alley. A nickname, he could compromise with. A bit of both worlds.

'Harry.'

'And I'll listen to all of your instructions,' Harry promised. 'But I'm the expert at staying alive and until your mum gets up, I'm going to protect you but you've got to let me. Understand?'

The echoes of distress and horror are a flutter in the distance, leaving Harry and Dudley on the edge of that torment and the dangerous silence in front of them. Harry couldn't do anything about that; had learnt the hard way that he couldn't save everyone. Anarchy was like a wild fire, water and depriving it of fuel were more likely it further infuriate it than aid snuffing it out. It had to burn itself out.

But Harry was used to this; was used to putting his life on the line. Death was a friend, battle a distant relative with the monster he came a twin. He knew this game; knew how to handle this. He'd done it before.

He couldn't. Had to. Harry had to be able to do this agin.

'Okay,' Dudley utters eventually, there is something inscrutable about his face. Something - sad, maybe as he looks at Harry, '…you really will be my bodyguard, after all…huh?'

'Even your mum can be right, sometimes,' Harry answers with as much humour as he can because Dudley can't be panicked here. Fear - fear was fine. Fear kept a person fast, kept them on-guard and ready, but they needed their wits about them and panic was a liability.

Dudley's eyes - so very human and so very vulnerable, are glittering but they meet Harry straight on. Harry - Harry remembers then, his mum crying, pleading but staring Voldemort straight in the eyes as he killed her. Harry remembers how scared but unwavering she'd been, just twenty-one when she'd died.

'Together, then,' Dudley says with a shaky voice as he steps forward so that they're side by side. 'Lead the way, Choice.'

They held each other's gaze and for the first time, they came to an understanding. Harry nodded, slow and drawn out as he turned to run, not so much carrying Dudley with him now but pulling themselves along. With both of them running as fast as they could while Harry navigated them with his map.

If this was a game it only meant that Harry needed to learn the rules. He was used to restrictions, it wouldn't take much to do it again. Doing things here were real enough, if without the same levity that underpinned the real world. He'd noticed that quickly while they'd been fighting those boars. It made things…easier.

Harry hadn't been able to feel anything when his staff ran through the creatures - the mobs here, nothing but a light pressure that accumulated behind his arms like that small thing was meant to represent the creatures' mass. There'd been no weight. It had been like a warn knife through butter; little resistance and as easy as breathing. So very…easy.

It would be like living through clingfilm, if Harry had to keep destroying things in order to level up - to get stronger to move up the floors. And that - that wasn't as comforting as people may think it would be.

The first time he'd held a physically demanding weapon, he'd been twelve-years-old and Gryffindor's sword had almost been too much for Harry. His young hands had griped hold of the gold hilt, pulling it free from the ratty, old Sorting Hat. Using it, he'd had to manage his entire body to thrust it forward, to push the blade through the basilisk's jaw; its tough gum, its rock hard brain and its steel skull. Its mammoth head had twitched when Harry had pierced through and his body had shook with it.

Harry'd barely been sixteen when Neville - brave, dependable Neville (who'd barely blinked at Harry, plastered with blood and covered with ash because that boy always so underestimated but knew sacrifice few did from the first war) threw him Gryffindor's sword, he'd drive it home once more. On his knees, weakened from another Kill Curse and shaking like a newborn lamb, Harry had nothing to give but the air in his lungs before he'd scrambled for that weapon.

With that sword, he'd had hope. It'd been enough to rekindle enough fire for him to penetrate through robe and skin, through a human's feeble chest-plate and Voldemort's blackened heart.

Hot blood had sprayed over Harry and he'd forced himself to stay firm, not to waver, as he stared into Voldemort's titian eyes, and be strong enough to watch the life leave them.

Weapons were not meant to be easy to use. Destroying things was not meant to be simple. Dumbledore thought he was reckless and thoughtless. Gryffindor though he was, however, Harry was not nor had he ever been heedless.

Because it was too easy to use these weapons and this was a new life, but Dudley was here with him and Harry had lost a lot, had given up the idea of protecting the few for the lot. Here - Harry couldn't do it again here. Wouldn't be able to, anyway.

On his blood, his sanity - his magic, so be it, this would not be another Battle of Hogwarts.

Harry was not coming out of this alone.

Con/textual: I have literally been trying to upload this for weeks. I've converted it into different file types, tried uploading on a completely different computer that uses a different server and internet access. I am at my wits end, that I've contacted the site's support but damn me if I've had a response yet. I have no idea what's wrong, except it's been happening for awhile now and I've always had to wait a few days for it to work again but nothing is working. Even my Image Manager is temperamental.

Well, I even looked to see if I was over my file limit. Unsurprising, I was not.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do, all I know is that I really don't have the time nor the knowledge to fiddle with it, when I've tried every conceivable thing to make my blasted Docs work, now though I've cut down the chapter considerably to see if that'll help.

(Finally Uploaded: 08.11.2015) (Rewritten: 18/03/2018)

OZ