Hogwarts: A Historical Game
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties. They are owned solely by J.K. Rowling.
Authors Note:
First and foremost I would like to give full credit and thanks to CuriousTooMuch (Av) for the amazing OC which this story will centre around. This story would not be written without her creative input. Additional thanks to her for agreeing to beta this story for consistency, accuracy, creativity and all the other lapses that I am prone to making.
Martin Valier's Statistics
SPECIAL
Strength: 7
Perception: 8
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 9
Luck: 4
SKILLS
Alteration: 28
Athletics: 51
Barter: 15
Enchant: 29
Evocation: 34
Healing: 33
Knowledge: 27
Magical Theory: 29
Mind Arts: 31
Persuasion: 13
Physical Combat: 56
Research: 36
Stealth: 53
Martin yawned as he opened his eyes blearily. For a brief single moment, he frowned at the bright lights above the bed and wondered what he was doing there… As the events of the afternoon registered themselves in his mind, he groaned mentally. He had thought that it had all been a bad dream. Apparently he was not that lucky.
His mental musings, however, were abruptly disturbed by a pair of approaching footsteps and Martin tensed. He tried to turn his head to the side but a familiar screen chose that moment to make it visible.
Not again… Martin was growing tired of the hovering words, appearing at the most inopportune of times. Beyond the semi-transparent screen, he could see a feminine figure standing, almost frozen. Could she see the words? And if so, what would she think of it?!
Martin stored that thought away, instead focusing on the words. The faster he responded to them, the earlier they would vanish. After a few moment of staring at them, Martin came to the conclusion that this time he had to choose something called a 'Perk'…
TUTORIAL:
Perks are an essential part of the game as they are the main way that you will shape your destiny after finishing character creation. Perks come in great varieties and each one will be suited for several different playing styles. You gain 2 perk points per level which can be spent.
YOUR 1 PERK POINT CHOICES ARE...
A Fistful of Galleons
+ Your level (1) x 100 = you gain 100 Galleons.
Careful Calligraphy
You will have flawless handwriting and ability to decipher illegible scripts.
Sherlock Holmes
+5 Mind Arts and +5, Knowledge
I Can Fly!
You gain a Cleansweep 5, standard strength.
+5 to Athletics
YOUR 2 PERK POINT CHOICES ARE...
Jack of All Skills: Magic
+3 to Alteration
+3 to Enchant
+3 to Evocation
+3 to Magical Theory
+3 to Research
+3 to Mind Arts
+3 to Knowledge
Potential Polyglot
Learn a language of your choosing in a single term
Intensive Training
+1 to any S.P.E.C.I.A.L stat
While slightly confusing, the 'Perk' system was easier than Martin had anticipated. Probably because there was much less mathematics involved. At the very least, he wouldn't have to spend time counting different skill points.
Martin glanced down the list again and immediately discounted the 'Galleons perk'; mainly because he had no idea what a Galleon was... was it anything like boomslang skin…?
His handwriting was already extremely good. Martin thought, checking out the next perk with smug expression. Hyacinth had seen to it that he was able to wield a pen as well as he could a sword. He had also written regular letters home so he had a fairly good practice in scripture.
As for the other perks, Martin had no idea who Sherlock Holmes was other than that he was apparently very clever and good at thinking; if the bonuses given were anything to go by.
Similarly, a Cleansweep 5 was something he was completely clueless about. What was it? Some sort of sword or something?
Martin sighed again before selecting the Jack of All Skills perk. He did not need to learn a language or add a point to one of his SPECIAL stats. Not yet at any rate.
Opting for that lone perk, he watched as the screen faded into another one.
SELECTED PERKS:
Jack of All Skill: Magic
CONFIRM PERK?
YES
NO
At his thumbing on 'Yes', the words finally faded completely and he was left staring into the eyes of the stern-faced woman; this time unfrozen. Martin could spy Professor Albus Dumbledore standing a couple of paces behind her.
"Ah, Martin, so you are awake. I want you to meet Professor Minerva McGonagall." The old man beamed at the mercenary with so much enthusiasm that Martin could not help but stare in wonder. Was Albus Dumbledore taking some of that 'chocolate' stuff that the Poppy woman had tried to give him earlier? He certainly seemed… merrier.
Martin pushed back his thoughts again; jerking his head in acknowledgement at the new acquaintance but immediately flinched as the woman simply drew out her wand and began to wave it around; all the while muttering under her breath. It did not escape Martin's notice that she was looking distinctly sourer and sourer with each wave. What was she doing? Was it a spell?
His annoyance only increased as she addressed Dumbledore directly, without speaking a word to him; the one who she was casting unknown spells on… Martin knew he wouldn't like this woman now.
"I am sorry, Albus but I am unable to discern what magic went into the de-aging of the boy. There is no trace of a magic on him at all, except a light residue from what appears to be a Patronus charm. It is very... vexing. Normally the effects would leave some sort of magical signature but there is nothing at all!"
Dumbledore looked disappointed as the maniacal twinkle of his eyes dimmed but he still replied with a smile. "It was to be expected Minerva; even I could not find a trace. But that is good. We can proceed with the current arrangements now."
Here, he turned to face the increasingly irritated mercenary. "Martin, my boy… we have had several offers from Wizarding families to look after you for the summer holidays. You may choose who you will stay with after you have been sorted."
That was unusual... Martin frowned to himself.
"How did they know about me, Al-Headmaster?" Martin quickly amended mid-speech. He did not know if the old man would like him to be called by his Christian name or not. And if the use of titles was still as widespread as it was in his time, then it would definitely be better for Martin to go by them. "I don't know anyone here, nor should they know me..."
"Martin, you made the front page of the Daily Prophet for destroying a Dementor and we told the paper that you were an orphan who was transferring to Hogwarts from France; in order to protect you. Since then… let's just say that we have had several offers of temporary guardianship. You are considered a powerful wizard and are acclaimed as thus. However, if you don't want to stay with a complete stranger, I could always contact some of my acquaintances..."
Confused as he was, the first question Martin asked was. "You told the paper... What do you mean? Does it talk back? Paper can't talk here, right?!"
In retrospect, Martin knew that it was a slightly ridiculous question but after seeing the amount of magic he had, it would hardly surprise him to find that the paper could talk.
Albus Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Actually, we were referring to the paper on which the news is printed and then circulated. It's known as the 'Daily Prophet'."
Okay, that made sense. More than he had expected. Before he could open his mouth to speak, the headmaster added slyly.
"After all, only Howlers actually speak. But, yes… you won't know what a Howler is, will you?" The woman standing next to Albus pursed her lips as if she thought that the headmaster was being childish. "A Howler is a letter which is charmed to follow the recipient while reciting the contents of the letter in a very loud howl; hence the name 'Howler'. Does that answer your question?"
Martin's eyes widened as he swore to himself that even if he managed to return home, he would never ever let Hyacinth know about Howlers. Her written criticisms were scary enough without imagining the shouting coming from one of her letters. The idea of receiving a Howler from her... Martin knew he had just found a new worst nightmare.
Now that he understood about Howlers however, his attention was turned to the other issues; issues which he could actually comprehend.
Martin understood the idea of being looked after by another family. In France, boys were commonly sent to a different manor or castle to train to be knights; it allowed for many to be taught by the best teachers, whether in swordplay or manners and it was a good chance to build connections with other noble youths. It existed in England as well, though to a lesser degree. In England, most youths would be sent to the royal court to train instead.
Martin had never been able to do either of these; his family were not wealthy enough to afford the requisite equipment for being a knight. Armour and a decent horse were expensive after all and the very idea of paying for a season at court was ridiculous but he was familiar with the concept, anyhow.
Martin nodded before asking a question. "I will see through the offers, Headmaster but can't I stay here for a few days… to acquaint myself with the surroundings?" And get a grip on this surreal situation.
Dumbledore smiled again while Minerva McGonagall huffed. "This is a boarding school, Mr. Valier. Of course you will stay here till the term ends! That is obvi-"
Albus placed a hand on the spluttering woman's shoulder. "Calm down, Minerva dear. We must keep in mind that Mr. Valier here had no knowledge about the patterns of study used in the school. You must give him some time to get his bearings."
Here, the Headmaster turned back to the wide-eyed mercenary. "If you think you can move, Martin, I would like you to accompany me to my office. We shall be able to pursue matters of immediate importance from there."
Martin instantaneously jumped out of the bed, glad to be escaping the morbid presence of the white-washed Infirmary. A brief spell of dizziness accompanied his jump but a couple of deep breaths helped him gain back his composure. Martin resisted the urge to curse his condition. His fourteen year old body was really going to trouble him in his physical pursuits.
"Be careful, boy. We don't want to be blamed for causing you harm." Minerva immediately shot, her expression still disagreeable before turning around and walking out of the door at the far end. Dumbledore followed but not before giving Martin one of his cheerful smiles.
Martin sighed. It was time to seal his fate.
The mercenary's thoughts spun as he followed his two guides through a maze of corridors and staircases. He was barely surprised by the opulence of the castle. Martin had seen a lot of affluence working under the King of England. What did surprise him, though, was the paintings that moved and the armours that clinked, and seemed to have the potential to move. It seemed nothing was normal in this world he was stuck in.
Idly the boy wondered about exactly what it was that they taught at Hogwarts. Was teaching magic similar to swordsmanship or were there scriptures to learn?
Martin's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Dumbledore stopped in front of a large statue. The statue was grand and of the finest quality, though, not as beautiful as some of the others he had seen on the way.
Martin heard the old man mutter something and the statue moved back to reveal another staircase. Before Martin could marvel at the mechanism used to hide the staircase, he was pulled forward.
He stood beside the stern looking woman; with Dumbledore a step behind them, his breathing heavy. The spiral staircase that had appeared once the statue let them pass was moving and moving quickly at that. Martin braced himself, closing his eyes as a drop of sweat appeared on his forehead. He was just about to give into his nausea when the spinning finally stopped and a door appeared in front of him.
Minerva McGonagall moved from besides him, opening the door as she went and Martin took that as his cue to enter. On the other side of the door, he found himself in a large room filled with all sorts of devices. He thought he recognized a few but it was impossible to be sure. Not when the world was still feeling slightly blurry to him, due to his dizziness.
Albus Dumbledore walked in from behind him, placing a hand on Martin's shoulder. This was probably the Headmaster's office; judging from the way the old man made himself at home here.
Minerva immediately sat down in one of the plump looking chairs. Martin, however, kept standing; unsure of what to do. He could make out a couple of paintings staring at him and tried not to let that unnerve him.
A sudden thought made him blink.
Martin looked around again, taking close note of the wealth he had witnessed throughout the time he had remained in the school. The soft cushioned beds. The large castle. The shining statues. In all likelihood, the school was very prestigious and consequently would cost a lot to attend. Martin had not thought of that earlier but now he voiced these concerns to Dumbledore, hesitantly.
"Headmaster, I am unable to afford any expenses for schooling. I don't have any job or a family who would pay for me."
The reply that came forth shocked Martin.
"That is quite alright, my boy. The school has funds to grant tuition for orphans as well as to provide them with other necessities. However, we will have to arrange a trip to Diagon Alley soon; for you to purchase the required items. You will probably have to get your books and robes second hand, though. Not to mention, the trip will have to be kept out of the ears of the press lest you be hogged for answers to questions you don't quite understand yourself."
Martin barely heard what Dumbledore was speaking. He couldn't wrap his mind around what he had just realized. People without any money could attend the school for free and they would even be provided with the necessary equipment! How on earth did the castle not go bankrupt?! Even if it was second hand items, it would still be a burden on them.
Before he could ask where the money came from, a loud chirp sounded. Without a thought, Martin sprang backwards, glancing frantically around for a weapon. They were under attack! Martin quickly discarded the objects scattered around the room. He needed something strong to fight off the enemy.
One part of his brain wondered why his two companions were looking at him like that. But all such thoughts vanished when a ball of fire speeded towards them. Without even flinching, Dumbledore stepped in front of Martin and the fiery object landed on his arm.
Martin cried out in horror.
It took around twenty or so minutes for Dumbledore to convince Martin that the castle was not under siege and that the object was a phoenix and not a flaming rock thrown by a battle engine. Once he had calmed down, Martin found that it was actually quite interesting to meet Fawkes, who was apparently Dumbledore's pet companion. He stared at her coloured feathers before Dumbledore led him to a stool, placed at one corner of the room.
Martin squinted at the hat kept on the stool, wondering what was it that Dumbledore wanted him to do. He opened his mouth to ask just that and could not help but gasp when the ancient looking hat started speaking.
"Is this a child that you want me to sort, Albus…? He is a bit old, would you not agree?"
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye grew brighter. As did his smile.
"Ah, my old friend! It's been long… As for your question, Mr. Valier here is an exception to the rule. I am sure that once you sort him you will be made aware of his… shall we say special circumstances?"
That did not sound good; Martin did not want some old, talking hat to know about him. Moreover, what did the Headmaster mean by the hat sorting him? Was it going to declare his place in the hierarchy of the school or something?!
Martin was already panicking by the time Minerva McGonagall appeared besides him. The woman's expression did nothing to elevate his fear.
"Calm down, Mr. Valier." She stated methodically. "This is the sorting hat; which will decide what house you will be placed in. There are four houses in Hogwarts and by the time you leave this room, you will belong to one. It is perfectly safe, I assure you. Just sit down and place the hat on your head."
Martin looked from the Professor to the Headmaster, taking in a deep breath. He knew that running wouldn't get him anywhere especially not when he had not charted out his surroundings and the castle. After all, the last thing Martin wanted was to find himself facing something worse off that this speaking hat. Like that Dementor…
Martin bobbed his head slowly before sitting down as gracefully as he could… which wasn't much. The stool was evidently meant for younger children, not for a taller than average fourteen year old boy. Before he could utter a single word, the hat was placed on his head and his vision darkened.
The sudden deafening silence was broken by a voice, coming from somewhere close to his ears.
"Well, well, well. This is interesting. Very interesting… I see we have a time traveller in our midst. How very peculiar. Albus was indeed correct; this is most fascinating."
Martin restrained himself from jumping off and throwing the wretched hat away from him. He had not expected it to speak to his mind. What was wrong with everyday things in this magical world?! The paper was able to talk and so were hats apparently!
Martin's surprise widened when he felt a image burning in the forefront of his mind. It seemed the hat wanted him to look at it and look he did.
It was… a set of plain black robes with a coat of arms emblazoned on the front pocket. Upon closer inspection the coat of arms, Martin found that it consisted of four sections; each division containing an animal.
A silver snake rested on a green background. There was a lion on a red one. Next there was a raven on a blue part. Lastly, a badger on a yellow square was there. Martin had not seen this symbol before and wondered if it was something of importance. Like the Court seal…
Before he could go any further in his musings, the hat spoke to him again.
"That, Martin, is the Hogwarts coat of arms. It will be found on the robes which you shall be given when you start your education. It will also magically alter itself to the crest of your chosen house once you are sorted."
Martin frowned. So, he shall be given robes. And not just robes; he shall be given enchanted clothing. Martin was not sure whether he was going to accept anything so blatantly magical yet but the thought was interesting enough to distract him from noticing a strange feeling in his mind... Almost as if someone was reading it…
Martin's yelp was drowned in the commentary that the voice in his head was giving. The mercenary took a deep breath, focusing on the words.
"Hmm, I don't think you would do well in Hufflepuff; you have their dedication but your loyalty is another factor. You are intensely loyal to few but not to others. Your allegiance needs to be earned…
Ravenclaw is a possibility. The potential is there as you have a logical mind when it comes to solving problems or attaining a goal... But… no, to excel in Ravenclaw knowledge must be more than a means to an end.
Your actions would normally mark you as a Gryffindor but you always knew the risks; always calculated them before jumping into action. Being head-strong is not one of your virtues."
With each word that the hat droned on, Martin was getting more and more nervous but he kept his face expressionless. His breathing quickened slightly, though this was the only outward sign of emotion. What would he do? Three out of four houses had requirements that he didn't meet... Would he be sent away if the hat could not sort him?!
The hat seemed to be listening to his desperate ramblings. "No need to worry, Martin. Your thoughts just now; that self control and your past actions show cunning beyond measure. You were born for great deeds. Treat your new house like the Royal Court; it is full of intrigues, many of which may be turned to your advantage with just the right words and actions. Yes, I have decided. It will be SLYTHERIN!"
The last word was spoken out loud or rather shouted out loud. The noise gave Martin something of a headache, which was to be expected. The hat had not seemed to realise that it was sitting over Martin's ears; which meant that he was in the optimum position to hear it speak. He was at an even more disadvantage, though, since Martin's ears were highly trained to hear the noises that most of the other people wouldn't notice; making them significantly more sensitive.
Silence fell in the room as the hat was lifted off his head by Minerva McGonagall; who, if possible, looked even sourer than she had in the Infirmary. Martin squirmed slightly under her gaze, wondering if she had heard the whole encounter with the hat.
After a couple of beats; nine to be exact (Yes, Martin was counting), the woman spoke again, her voice as cold as ice. "I will arrange for Flint to take the boy to his new house's common room. He should probably meet the other members of his new house before the school closes for the summer. Flint will be in Charms, if I recall the timetable correctly."
The next words were said with an unpleasant air of finality. "Follow me, Mr. Valier and remember that you are a transfer student from France. Please try to act as such."
With one last nod towards the Headmaster; who simply smiled indulgently, the Professor strode out of the office at a brisk pace. After a moment's hesitation, Martin followed.
His thoughts were running rampant as the two continued down endless corridors. Martin had already given up on keeping track of them. He would probably need to map the castle before he would feel safe here.
Martin's pondering turned to the situation in hand. What was happening? He didn't know anything about this school; other than the fact that it was apparently a place to learn magic, and yet, Martin was supposed to act like a transfer student. And more importantly, who exactly was this 'Flint'? Could be another one of those horrendous creatures… like the Dementor…?
Before his imagination could sprout any more vile creatures and ideas, Minerva McGonagall stopped in front of a set of doors. A quick knock and she walked inside, without even a glance at Martin. The mercenary quickly decided against following the woman inside. He wasn't going to end up in a closed room with an unknown creature.
As it turned out, all his fears were for nothing. The Professor came out with a thickset young man named 'Flint'; who stared at Martin with an inscrutable expression. Introductions were made briefly; with Flint being told that Martin Valier was a transfer student from France who would be starting Hogwarts from next term.
With a frown still on her face, Professor McGonagall walked off after all the required formalities, leaving Martin and the other boy alone. Martin immediately adopted a defensive posture; staying quiet the entire time.
Flint took one look at the fourteen year old and with a brief tilt of his head, set off on a path leading deeper and deeper into the castle. Martin followed; only because he didn't want to be left alone without a guide.
The walk took around ten minutes; more or less. The two students came to a stop outside a bare dungeon wall. Martin frowned, looking around for a lever. Flint cast him an amused smirk before muttering the word "Salazar". The wall immediately swung open. Martin was reminded of the statue in the front of the Headmaster's office. Was this magic? It was… impressive.
The room beyond the door was imposing, to say the least. Tapestries hung from the walls between the heavy bookcases that were brimming with their load, consisting not only of books but also strange devices and bottles of… potions?
Flint placed a hand on Martin's shoulder. Before the mercenary could react, he was spun around and pointed towards a list on the far wall entitled 'Slytherin Common Room Conduct'.
"Valier, read that for now. We will talk further when the classes finish at five o'clock." Martin had not yet said a single word to Flint but for some reason the older boy had sneered at his surname. Why would he do that? Valier might not be a well known and influential name but it was still respectable. Unless… there was some sort of Wizarding Aristocracy that he was yet to be aware of.
It seemed to Martin that he would have to prove himself to gain respect in this house. The sorting hat had told him to treat Slytherin like the Royal Court, after all.
Looking around the room, he could see various framed pictures; moving around like the ones in Dumbledore's office. Some of them were newspaper clippings and much to Martin's surprise, there was a picture of Thomas Cromwell too; though he had never seen the particular portrait before. But he was in the future, after all. Maybe it was painted after he had supposedly died…?
Only a handful of students were about; casting subtle glances towards Martin. Martin sighed; he hated being stared at. His discomfort was broken when the grandfather clock between two suits of armour chimed; it was now two o'clock. With nothing else to do, Martin directed his attention on reading the rules.
Slytherin Common Room Conduct
Sneakoscopes are banned: The noise is deafening.
Experiments are allowed: If you can pay for any damage caused.
Violence is never the first answer: Try manipulation initially.
Dormitories other than yours are off limits: Trespassers will be cursed.
Duels are banned: Accidental slips of the wand are not.
Proven Dark Arts users will be punished: As will any witnesses.
Follow the Slytherin Hierarchy: No exceptions.
Martin's brows furrowed together as he read the list again. And then he read it again. He had almost memorized the rules by the time he finished reading it for the third time. The list took a certain level of background knowledge for granted; as no explanation was offered about what a Sneakoscope was or what the Slytherin Hierarchy was either.
Now that the rules were read, Martin still had more than two hours to pass; He decided to check out the large bookcase spanning the walls. Reading wasn't his favourite activity of choice but he hoped that the books would give him a bit of a clue about this strange world. At this point, any information would be welcomed by Martin…
The bookcase was divided into various distinctions. Martin immediately disregarded the practical curses and works. He didn't want to learn spells; it would be pointless without a wand to practice them with (Not to mention; they were MAGIC spells…) – just like practicing sword-fighting without a blade was.
So, instead he picked up a book entitled 'Hogwarts: A History' and another significantly thicker book, whose cover proudly proclaimed 'Tier 13 Potions Ingredients: the Complete Compendium'. Martin could understand Potions. He had helped around in the Royal Apothecary as part of his mandatory training. His mother had also taught him a lot about basic healing and brewing.
Pointedly ignoring the stares sent his way, Martin sat down on a comfortably plump chair which faced a desk. With a quick glance towards Hogwarts: A History, he opened up the second book.
Within moments, Martin was engrossed in memorising the contents.
There were 13 Tiers in potions ingredients; 13 being the lowest and 1 being the highest. Levels 13-4 were taught at Hogwarts at a rate of two tiers in the first three years and subsequently one tier per year. Tier 13 itself covered a full 300 different ingredients for potions!
The only relief was that most of these ingredients were rarely used but the bad news was that you could, theoretically, be tested on any of them at the end of year exams… Martin also realised with a growing sense of horror that since his body was that of a fourteen years old, he would be expected to start Tier 7 potions the following year.
So he started to read; quickly and efficiently. Martin would read through the section on a single ingredient and then would summarize its properties and how it reacted with other ingredients. It was surprisingly complex; as even those plants that he recognized as common herbs had at least five main uses which could be affected by any number of other ingredients.
He was jolted out of his intense studying session when the clock struck three but promptly plunged back. It was only when the clock struck four and his head was starting to hurt that Martin allowed his mind to rest and fully process the new information.
Then the game screen appeared once more.
NEW INFORMATION UNLOCKED
You have learnt about Parsley: +5XP
You have learnt about Rosemary: +5XP
You have learnt about Monkshood: +5XP
You have learnt about Aniseed: +5XP
You have leant about Flobberworm Guts: +5XP
You have learnt about Scarab Beetle Wings: +5XP
You have learnt about Porcupine Quills: +5XP
You have learnt about Ash Bark: +5XP
You have learnt about Bezoars: +5XP
You have learnt about Iron Filings: +5XP
.
.
.
The list went on and on and as each pop up appeared, Martin could feel the information settling into his mind. It was a strange sensation but somehow, he knew that he would be unable to forget the facts he had just learnt. It was as if the information was written into his brain - all he had to do was think of the ingredient and all of the information he had learnt would be called forth.
By the time Marin had focused back on the screen, the list had finished scrolling downwards. With a sense of pride, the boy noted that he had learnt about 32 different substances and their potions use.
TOTAL XP: 160
LEVEL UP!
Martin settled back further, waiting for whatever it was that the game sprouted at him next.
Thank you for reading. As always constructive criticism is appreciated, as well as general feedback. Reviews are a major source of motivation. And I hope that you enjoyed reading chapter 3 of Hogwarts: A Historical Game!
Additional Note:
The Picture of Thomas Cromwell that Martin had found on the Slytherin Common Room wall was actually a picture of Severus Snape; Head of Slytherin House. You may find that the two of them share a lot of physical similarities.
