Chapter 1. A Divergence.

"Just yer wand, status plate and er… I ah still haven't got yeh… well… a birthday present yet." Hagrid stammered awkwardly as Harry felt himself blush before he regained his state of mind to ask a question that had been bugging him since he had seen the item on his shopping list earlier that day.

"Sorry Hagrid, but what's a status plate?"

"Oh? Didn' I tell yeh?" Hagrid asked, shaking his head as he moved down the alley, his beard nearly knocking over a sampling cauldron in front of a cake shop, as it flapped wildly back and forth with his head movement, causing the owner to glare nastily at him and Harry to look away in embarrassment.

"No matter, no matter, well yeh see 'Arry, everything a Wizard does, earns 'im experience…" Hagrid scratched his head in an attempt to figure out how to explain this to Harry properly, "An well, I aint the best person ter be explaining this to ya yeh see, but when yeh earn enough experience, yeh level up, and yeh get more stats ter be more powerful yeh see."

Harry nodded, having seen this in some games Dudley played, it was boggling to think that this was how the wizarding world worked too. "So… does it tell us stats, skills and such?" Harry asked, now thoroughly intrigued.

"How abou' yeh wait till yer in the store 'Arry, it's just up 'ere." Hagrid pointed to a sign that was a rather bland and plain grey rectangle – Stagwall's Status Sigils – it read.

Harry conceded with a nod, intent on asking the shopkeeper all the questions he could muster. As they approached Stagwall's Status Sigils, Harry couldn't help but notice the contrast between the lively, colourful shops on either side and the drab, unassuming exterior of the store they were about to enter. The building itself seemed almost to shrink into the background, its weathered stone facade barely drawing attention amidst the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley.

The store was so clean, hospitals could be called dirty after visiting, Harry thought to himself as he entered, then watched Hagrid perform an awkward looking duck and sidle into the main room. The walls, devoid of any decorations or ornaments, seemed to absorb the dim light that trickled in from the small windows near the ceiling. The air was cool and still, carrying a faint scent of parchment and ink. A single door at the back of the store, nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding wall, hinted at hidden areas and secrets beyond.

"Welcome, oh-ho! Hagrid, you brought him!" The plain looking albeit eccentric woman, obviously managing the shop exclaimed, clapping her hands gleefully in front of her face. "Mister Potter, at long last!" Claire's hair was pulled back into a tight bun, with a few wisps of grey escaping around her temples. Her round, wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose, magnifying her keen, inquisitive eyes. She wore a simple, ankle-length robe in a muted shade of blue, which seemed to accentuate her air of professionalism and efficiency. However, she looked so overly excited that it took away from the stern exterior she had cultivated.

"Er… yer, bin a while, Claire… I see yeh doin well." Hagrid mumbled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere in the blank room, so long as it was not at the woman, he had called Claire.

"Fine fine Hagrid, I see you're still butchering the queen's English rather handily." The woman sighed and waved her hand in front of her face as if swatting a fly. "Regardless, mister Potter, if you please." The woman directed him to the stone counter in the middle of the room. Observing it while the woman walked to the opposing side, Harry saw a large square etched in the surface.

"If you please, place your hands flat inside the square, palm down." Harry hurried over to the bench and did as he was directed, while the woman appearing to be in a rush, waved her wand over his hands chanting and muttering what obviously appeared to be incantations she did not want overheard. After a minute that felt far longer, the square lit up, glowing an ominous orange colour before it eventually died down, causing the woman to instruct Harry to remove his hands.

Immediately after doing so, a palm sized rectangular chunk of grey stone separated itself from the polished stone top where his hands had been, to which when Claire picked it up, underneath the stone counter appeared to have melted and refilled the missing portion. She took a long look at the plate before frowning, her face, shoulders and entire cheerful demeanour falling in obvious disappointment and thrusting it over to Harry.

"Well… I suppose you are but a child." The woman snipped, her friendly tone gone as Harry received his plate. "Best keep that plate's contents secret, Mister Potter." She tutted, her frown deepening making Harry nervous, "You most definitely wouldn't want your enemies taking advantage of that." Claire looked down pitifully at Harry who looked up with a questioning frown on his boyish features, a look that belonged more on an adult than an 11-year-old boy. Claire sighed then continued, "I'll just say one more thing Mister Potter." Claire leaned down and whispered into his ear. "You have a lot of work cut out for you, if you want to live up to the hype."

Harry blanched, but dared not look at the small tablet that had caused this shift in the woman he thought had been rather nice to him prior. "Umm thank you Miss…"

"Just Claire," She said as she backed away from him, Harry then fumbled with his coin pouch and paid the woman before being ushered out by Hagrid, feeling like prey in the eyes of a hawk as Claire watched him do so, he never did get to ask all the questions he wanted to of her. Yet he felt he was unwelcome to ask any and that he got more than he'd wanted from the visit.


Hours later, shopping long since complete, Harry and Hagrid sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, a bowl and a bucket of broth separated them as they ate in silence, until Harry spoke up. "Umm Hagrid?"

"Hmm?"

"Why would I need to keep my you know, hidden from everyone?" Harry asked, looking around rather sceptically.

Hagrid chuckled before he answered, "Cause it's common decency there, it is. Migh wan' ter check yer phrasing there 'Arry," Hagrid laughed again before he took pity on Harry and gave him a real answer. "Because, 'Arry, Claire said yours… is well… different." Hargrid chuckled again despite himself.

"Different how?"

"She didn' tell me." Hagrid frowned. "But don' yeh worry yerself. She's bound by 'er magic to not tell anyone the contents of teh plates. She's the only one besides you, Dumbledore and a few others that can see it without you wantin' them teh."

Harry looked down into his meal in acceptance before shrugging and continuing to eat his fill.

Later that night, after Hagrid had organised two rooms with Tom the Barkeep, Harry was staring at his status plate, lying on his back in bed. "A lot of work cut out for me, do I? How do I prepare when I don't know how?" Harry sighed, questions boring through his brain as he read over the contents of the plate, for what had to be the hundredth time that evening.


Harry Potter – Age: 11 – Male – Level: 2

Job: nil

Strength: 5

Vitality: 5

Defence: 10

Agility: 10

Magic: 10

Magical Defence: 5

Skills: Skills Tree Locked.

Affinities: Stealth


Stealth made sense to Harry. He had long since honed his skills of hiding from would be attackers, knowing where people are and avoiding danger. He could honestly say that eventually he began to feel when people entered the room, see motion that didn't belong rather clearly and tell quickly who a danger or threat was before he even truly looked at them. The skills tree being locked confused him, as did the numbers.


Harry sat on the train facing the boy, whose mother and sister had helped him through the barrier earlier, who now seemed to want to be his new friend. "So, Harry?" Ron said softly, "What job did you get?"

"What does that even mean?" Harry asked, avoiding the question by answering with another, "I mean I don't know what it is or does."

"Dad says it's just an indication of what you will be good at." Ron explained. "Dad's a Synergist, so he's rather good at identifying, making and changing stuff with magic. He likes muggle things especially. I got Invoker. So, he says I'd be rather good at law enforcement or something like that, because I'd be good at re-enforcement magic. Bill is an Observer, so he can see the flow of mana…"

"What's mana?" Harry interrupted, never having gotten a good answer from Hagrid, just as he finished his question, a bushy haired girl snapped open the door to their compartment.

"Sorry, have either of you seen a toad? Someone has lost theirs." The girl asked, she then took a moment to look the boys over as they shook their heads. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley,"

"Harry Potter, and no, I was just asking Ron here what mana is."

"Well I can answer that." Hermione stated officiously, skipping clean over the part of who Harry had declared himself to be, as she took a seat opposite to him, leading him to believe he was in for a longer than Ron could deliver explanation. "Mana is the essence or building blocks of magic. It is contained in our bodies and most everything around us, we use our wands to focus it. Mana can be controlled through the use of specific movements or incantations to perform magic. The amount of Mana you have is determined by your Magic stat. If you have a high number, you can put more power behind a spell, or cast at a normal level for longer than someone who has a lower number. Of course, the more mana you put into a spell, the faster you run out so it would be best to learn to control that as soon as you can. Your mana replenishes at a logarithmic rate equal to your Magical Defence."

At the boys' blank looks Hermione then continued to explain what she believed they were stuck on, "Logarithm is just a scale used, so for every point of magical defence your regeneration is generally 10 times what it would have been previously. Based on that sort of mathematical function, I can only assume that mana regeneration is very slow, so what would have taken 100 minutes to regenerate with 1 point, would only take 10 minutes with 2. I really do have to find out who worked that out, they would have to be a muggleborn to understand logarithmic scales and power factors, absolutely genius." Hermione finished by trailing off on her own tangent.

"What is normal magical stats for our levels?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Well, as we are 11, level 11 is the expected level, that is because as children we only really level up when we do or experience something extraordinary, that and I believe we are granted a level for each year we live…" Hermione trailed off then looked up to see Harry's raised brows in question, "Oh sorry." Hermione continued, "Yes, well as we are level 11, the average Magic stat for someone our age is between 20 and 30, and magical defence will be between 5 to 10 as we don't use magic much yet, outside of accidental magic I mean."

"You're a Wordsmith aren't you." Ron stated matter-of-factly, "seems like you have an entire book memorised there."

Hermione frowned at him for a moment, looking as if she was trying to figure out if it was a compliment or an insult, she appeared to decide upon the former before she continued, "Why yes, I am… Although my status plate seems rather bare at the moment, I do already have two skills which is supposedly rather rare for a level eleven, speed-reading and enhanced retention." Hermione beamed, while Harry sat there wide eyed in shock. "It's not completely unheard of…" Hemione trailed off at Harry's wide-eyed shocked look. Eventually she began to blush at his implied scrutiny.

Ron picked up where she continued, "Yeah, my brother Charlie has like 12 skills, which is really good for a level 35, he gets lots of experience in his job, works with dragons see, and the twins are already level 15 even though they're only 13, I'm not sure but I think they're lying or cheating." Ron finished with a frown causing Harry to go pale and sit back in his seat. "Don't worry Harry, we'll level up soon enough." Ron clenched his fist with a smirk.

Harry returned his smirk but sat back in silence. Hermione had as much as stated his magic stats were far below what they should be, and Ron's no-comment or correction on her statement led Harry to believe that what Hermione had said was the correct assumption. Ron's brothers set an expectation for Ron that didn't seem completely unrealistic to the boy, which led Harry to the frightening realisation. 'I am incredibly weak'.

"Hey Harry, what is your job?" Ron finally asked again, causing Harry to blanch. Harry didn't know what to say. Claire the status plate saleswoman's voice piped up in his head, reminding him that he should not reveal what was on his status plate, for people would take advantage of him, which he now knew it would be his weakness and misfortune they would take advantage of. The Dursley's did enough of that, but could he lie to his first real friend? Harry didn't want to, but perhaps he could omit some truths, that wasn't really lying, was it? He didn't have to tell Ron what level he was, or his skills, but he could tell him his job had not appeared yet and just say his level was his age for a while.

"Err… well I err… that is to say…" Harry mumbled, buying time figuring out how to answer the question, what kind of freak would they think him to be if he told them the truth, that he was barely more than a muggle with no job, skills locked and a level equivalent to that of a toddler.

"It's okay Harry" Hermione declared, "You don't have to tell us. I read that a status plate's contents can be rather private to some, so it is fine if you want to keep it to yourself. You have a lot of prospects in your future anyway for just being you Harry, but your job doesn't mean that is what you have to do with your life. You can always become a teacher, or open a store…"

Hermione trailed off in uncertainty as the door opened once more, admitting the pompous young blonde boy Harry remembered from Madame Malkins. "The-boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, can do better than opening a store…"


Harry looked down at his status plate once more, while he lay in the hospital bed he was assigned for the evening.

His head of house, Severus Snape, had said he was lucky he did not die after he had saved his unconscious friend Hermione. Harry knew Snape was right, it was no more than luck, that Troll had barely gotten in a glancing blow thanks to Ron's quick levitation charm on the club. After he'd been knocked to the ground, Harry had used his natural stealth to sneak around behind the Troll and jump onto its back, after which he was flicked off and into the wall, yet he'd managed to distract it enough for Ron to act.

Avoiding any discussion about his involvement in the scenario, he'd lied and stated he was merely impacted by some debris and told his Head of House, the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress that it was all Ron, which was mostly true anyway.

Harry was now at a point in the year where he was beginning to panic, he struggled with all manner of spells and curses and could barely get anything to come out of his wand, even the levitating charm that Ron had used on the Troll's club effortlessly had caused Harry to break out in a sweat when performing it on a feather.

Hermione and Ron had not completely ditched Harry since they had all been sorted into different houses, but it wasn't earning him any friends in Slytherin that he was friends with outsiders, nor the fact that he was Harry Potter. But that last point did earn him some breathing room, and so Harry had contained himself, either in his room, where he practised magic, the library, where he researched as much as he could trying to learn about how to unlock or gain skills, or jobs. He was taking what Claire had said to heart and working to get stronger.

Harry was shocked to learn that Slytherin students got rooms to themselves, while the rest of the school had dormitories, Hermione had said it was something about how Slytherins were too cunning and ambitious, and often it incited violence between students and so the sleeping quarters were changed centuries ago after some unsolved murders of children in the families of higher level nobles. Harry sighed and looked at his status plate again:


Harry Potter – Age: 11 – Male – Level: 2

Job: nil

Strength: 5

Vitality: 5

Defence: 10

Agility: 11

Magic: 10

Magical Defence: 5

Skills: Skills Tree Locked.

Affinities: Stealth


Harry was upset, not just because he was weak, but because he was different, once more. All he'd wanted in life was to fit in with everyone else, yet here he was, once again being a freak. His skills were non-existent, the only change was an additional point to agility. He'd studied a fair bit of history from his beginning at Hogwarts and learned that it was highly uncommon for stats to be as low as his and had so far not found a way to unlock his skills tree or level up. Harry was so determined to be better, his grades were already inflated for academic reasons, however his practical performance and spell casting was barely scraping through. His sleep that night was restless.


Once more, Harry was again in the Hospital wing. The reason – He'd defeated Voldemort and killed a man, formerly their Defence against the Dark Arts Professor. He alone was lured to the trap door, hidden in the room warned to the school to avoid at the start of the year. His two friends being kidnapped by Quirrell, his notification by way of an Owl at breakfast disguised as the Daily Prophet, arriving like the rest of the prophet deliveries that morning, however unfurling the paper had him quickly discover a piece of parchment instructing him to make his way to the room behind the 3rd floor corridor or his 2 friends would be killed. As it was a Saturday, Hermione and Ron weren't missed at breakfast.

Upon his arrival in the final chamber, having made his way past the already completed or opened tasks utilising his affinity for stealth, the man stood there and taunted him, as Harry then ran at him, attempting to wrestle him away from his friends. With Ron and Hermione already unconscious at the feet of the man, he attempted to drive Quirrell away from the two and the mirror was the only course of action Harry could think of.

After Harry was quickly thrown to the ground, Voldemort made his presence known from the back of Quirrell's head, which made everything worse. His screeching voice touting the ability to bring back Harry's parents from the dead tore at his heart, while the pain in his scar tore at his mind.

Harry had prevailed however, his skin somehow burning the teacher's body to dust causing him to eliminate both Quirrell and a weakened shade of Voldemort, blacking out in the process.

Dumbledore had taken one look at Harry's status plate once back in the hospital wing, and smiled warmly at him, telling him that it was fine, that he was nothing more than a normal child. Dumbledore blanched and avoided the question when Harry asked why Voldemort went after him both the night of his parent's deaths and the night of the stone, something Harry reminded himself to ask Dumbledore about later. He also told Harry that he must return to Little Whinging for the Summer, causing Harry's newest spiral into a depressed state.

Harry didn't believe Dumbledore when he'd said he was normal, but if anyone were to look at his status plate, they would agree with Harry's assumption, that something was wrong with him:


Harry Potter – Age: 11 – Male – Level: 3

Job: nil

Strength: 6

Vitality: 8

Defence: 11

Agility: 15

Magic: 11

Magical Defence: 6

Skills: Skills Tree Locked.

Affinities: Stealth


Harry put his status plate away for the final time that year and prepared for his trip back to the Dursley's. At least Ron had said that he could visit during the summer, that was the single ray of sunshine in Harry's dark state of mind.


"He's not what I expected…" Snape said to his now long-time friend, the man who had given him a place to be at the worst time in his life, the man who'd claimed he could pay his debts to society and the woman he loved in the one place.

"I am glad that you are finally seeing that." Dumbledore said, stroking his beard as he walked past the man in his path on the way to the headmaster's office. "I shall admit, I was surprised he was placed in your house… Well, not anymore… After seeing that."

"What?"

"His level, stats and his skills… They are nearly non-existent at present, Severus."

"He is just like his father, a lazy piece of…" Snape whispered as he then stopped following Dumbledore and frowned in confusion at the floor in front of him. "What? He's not just blending in? He is truly fighting to keep up?"

"He is far from lazy; his spirit is what sets him apart from the rest. Despite his lack of abilities, he struggles to ensure that he does well enough to remain at Hogwarts." Dumbledore reassured from far ahead of Snape but hearing clearly, Snape hurried to catch up to the elder.

"How much of what he has shown us is real, Albus?" Snape said exasperated, beginning to show a true emotion for the boy, who until now, he had genuinely believed was a reincarnation of James Potter. "How much of him is fabricated? Just an illusion he puts out for the world to see. Just how bad have we all misjudged him?"

"I do know," Dumbledore chuckled, "That he has a studious mind and a strong sense of right and wrong. Hopefully, with enough time he will surpass us all." Dumbledore dodged the question knowing exactly how true his statement was if his skill of Accelerated Growth was unlocked. "However, that is to say right now, he is far weaker than any magical child."

"You cannot be serious."

"Oh but I am, I will not reveal the contents of his Status Plate further but I will tell you this." Dumbledore said as he waved his wand, silencing the area around them before he stopped and turned to Snape. "He is not James, nor is he Lily or anyone else, he has had no chance to be, he lost them before he could learn to be like them. He is Harry Potter, and his spirit ensures that he will truly do well in the future. He cleanly defeated Quirrell and Voldemort down there, Severus, despite his inability to perform magic well, if at all, he utilised whatever tools were available to him. He is resourceful and determined. I will admit that I had no clue that locking away his skills would compound to this..." Dumbledore mumbled in the end, wondering just what it was that made Harry less than average.

Dumbledore took that moment to cancel the charms around him and walk off, leaving Snape in his own thoughts, thankfully not catching Dumbledore's mumbled introspection. The boy had been hiding who he truly was, what power he had or didn't have and what he was capable of, far better than any Slytherin student he knew of to date, bar one. Lily was rather cunning when she wanted to be, but this was a new level. Something he could not comprehend, did this mean Harry held within him a power he couldn't comprehend or was he merely a boy that could never surpass the norm?

Severus Snape turned and looked out a window, overlooking the forest beyond the school grounds. He would have to be cautious and observe Mr. Potter more closely, if he was going to become as good as Albus had predicted, then he should ensure that his godson, Draco, didn't incite Harry's anger; Harry was calm and rather measured, however Snape did occasionally see a glint of something held within his eyes. Hatred, anger, rage, self-loathing and plenty of other negative emotions swirling within him. Yet, it was never more than a flash before the mask was returned.

Snape had been frustrated to incredulous heights all year, he would use his Legilimency skill, a form of mind reading through emotion and body language, to gauge the students and see who was dangerous and to whom. However, Harry Potter was the one he couldn't read well from the start, and to make matters worse, the boy was placed into Slytherin house, to which every single person in the Great Hall that day was shocked, believing he would be the golden boy from Gryffindor. No, as Snape thought back now, Harry had shown nothing but cunning and ambition, avoiding large gatherings of people where possible, Draco and the Prefects had reported he'd never spent time in the common room and hadn't been visible outside of classes, of course that didn't mean he was never there, he must have had a measure of moving around unseen, something more advanced than an invisibility cloak.

The head of house made his way down to the dungeons, to his office to think some more on the topic of one Harry J. Potter and try to figure out what the boy truly was.