d

by b.banana123

not mine please don't read!

1. 1-7

This is your life on DnD

greatmojito

Summary:

Harry is a prophesized hero, but he died. Many times. He has had several afterlife processing agents, but they haven't set him up for success. His newest agent, Max, wants Harry to win at all costs. He's going to help Harry cheat at life by setting him up as a Gamer.

Notes:

JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Wizards of the Coast owns Dungeons and Dragons. I made up a story.

This is my first attempt at writing any fanfiction. As of this initial posting, I've written about 17 chapters. Even through that much, I have seen drastic changes in my writing style. I know there is a ton of editing that needs to be done to this already, but I have no motivation to go back to early chapters and re-write to match my newly evolved style, which itself still needs work. The story itself has morphed in scale and scope. It starts to settle down around chapter 6-7.

My main motivation right now is just to get the ideas down on the page. I'm writing this because it is a story I would want to read. I'm not trying to become a professional author or anything. I just like stories.

There are some very minor elements of what some would consider Dumbledore bashing. That's not the focus of this fic. It's just how I see Albus from canon. He's a complicated man, that rubs people the wrong way. It's a minor tension in the story, and not the focus. There's no mustache twirling, vault stealing, loyalty potions, etc.

I'll primarily be using a lot of DD 5e rules because that's what I'm currently playing, and I don't want to dig my old books out of the attic (3.5 would really let me break something). It will not be pure 5e however, because what's the fun in having a Gamer! fic if you don't try to break the system? Also, I don't think spell slots will work out for the story. I'm going to make up rules.

There will be lots of cursing. I curse regularly in my everyday language, and it comes out in my writing. I will not try to stop, because I see no issue with it.

It's not Brit-picked. I'm American. I try to use some of the things, but I can be bothered to do everything. If you want a better explanation, then Harry is traveling all over the world. Of course his dialect gets mixed up.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 1: Game Over!

Chapter Text

"Potter!"

Harry Potter was used to being yelled at. Vernon. Snape. Ron. Hermione. Molly. Malfoy. Shit. Who doesn't yell at him. So this guy who he has never seen before wasn't too impressive. Sure, if you weren't stared down by a dark lord, it might be a bit scary, but Harry was pretty much inoculated to it at this point.

"Er. Hello. I'm Harry Potter. Generally, it is polite to introduce yourself before all the yelling."

The man that was just a moment ago ready to burst a vessel somewhere blinked at him. Apparently that was supposed to make poor, meek, subservient Harry Potter start groveling or something. He looked like a DVLA admin. Not that Harry had a driver's license, but Vernon used to bitch about them. Whatever. Brown trousers. White oxford, not even buttoned up properly. Tie loose around the neck. Vernon would hate this guy. That in and of itself might be enough for Harry to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The man gathered his thoughts and sat behind the desk. Wait, when did that desk get here? And where the fuck is here anyway? He was just in the forest. Battle. Voldemort. Shit. "Who are you?"

The man making a mocking mumble 'Who are you? meh meh meh. Same fucking shit every time someone shows up.' The man, for that is what Harry was calling him since he STILL refused to introduce himself, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He may have been counting backwards from 20. He eventually opened his eyes, steadier now. "You can call me Max. I'm your processing agent. Obviously, I was assigned your case as part of my eternal punishment."

Now Harry was starting to remember things. His mind was clearing. He had walked into the forest. Avada Kedavra. Yeah... "So. Processing me to the afterlife then?"

"I just said that."

It had been a long day and Harry really didn't give a shit about anything except seeing his parents if he was really dead. That's why he hadn't cursed this guy yet. And he was a little curious. "Why did you say I was your punishment?"

"This entire line of work is a punishment. No one likes doing the paperwork for this. You specifically, are a problem case."

That was a bit insulting Harry thought. He was only 17. It couldn't be that problematic compared to someone like Dumbledore who had a literal century more of life to process. "Why am I a problem case? Oh, also why are you being punished? Or is that too personal? Is that like, not talking about religion and politics? Don't ask why someone is being punished?"

"Stop. Merde you're as bad as Pierre with all the questions. Fine. Easy questions first. I am being punished because I killed a lot of people."

Harry immediately stilled. He hadn't thought he was in danger here. His sixth sense, for lack of a better term, his instincts, had told him he was fine, but the way this Max casually talked about killing set his teeth on edge.

"Thousands of people. Tens of thousands."

Huh? Surely he would know anyone who had killed tens of thousands. He wasn't that stupid about the world. Was he? "What's your name?"

"Maximilien Robespierre."

Yup. Vernon definitely wouldn't like this guy. French. Harry didn't know why he asked the next question, but it just came out before he could stop himself. "Why are you dressed that way? I would have thought you would be wearing something more... I don't know, with ruffles."

The now reclassified mass-murderer replied casually, "part of the punishment."

"Right".

Max didn't appear to blink much either. Very creepy. "Back to my previous statement. Why I specifically am assigned to you. I don't actually think I am being punished by being assigned to you. That was just said in frustration. I think I'm actually here to help you specifically. Although you keep fucking up."

There was a lot to unpack there. Lots of questions being raised. Although, Max only answered one of his previous questions. Maybe he needed to prioritize. Can't be channeling Hermione, or whoever the fuck Pierre is. Was. "Why do you think you are specifically here to help me?"

"Your Dumbledore. Big on forgiveness, right? If I read the file correctly. Got you to walk to your death. Forgive Snape. Give the Malfoy boy another chance. Etc. I, on the other hand, abhor forgiveness. That's why I beheaded so many!" The last sentence was the first time Harry saw Max smile. It did not inspire trust.

"So, I should have murdered everyone?"

"Well, all the ones with that ugly tattoo, certainly."

Harry's world (or at least his world of morality) felt like it took a hammer blow. That was way too much to try to think on right now. Besides, it didn't matter now, right? He would just bury that little world-shifting view somewhere deep inside. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, right? Can I see my parents now?"

Max blinked. For most people this would hardly be noteworthy, but it was only the third time that Max had done so since Harry arrived. How long had he been here anyway? "No."

"What the fuck? Why not? I walked to my death. Was that not enough!?" He was on his feet screaming now. Max just sat there, unblinking.

Finally, Max held up a hand. "Do you not understand what is happening here?"

"I'm on my way to my next great adventure? Afterlife? Heaven and Hell?"

"It seems that your previous processing agents have done you a disservice if they did not explain any of this to you. Let's see if they say why. Maybe I can get someone killed for it."

That made no sense to Harry, but the guy said he would look into it, and he was reading a file. Benefit of the doubt, Harry supposed.

"Let's see. Your first agent re-inserted you in the timeline when you were first killed by Tom Riddle as a baby. Notes say the salope did not die, so you couldn't be allowed to die either. Eh, fair enough. Let's see..."

Harry needed to process that right the fuck now. "WAIT. You mean when Voldemort tried to kill me, I didn't survive because my Mum sacrificed herself for me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Love doesn't stop a killing curse. Who told you that connerie, er bullshite?"

"Dumbledore"

Max just nodded. "Indeed. Another point in my favor for convincing you to kill those that oppose you. Moving on. Your second death and second agent. Starved to death in your cupboard. Memory wiped and reinserted in timeline with full belly. What? That's it? Who the fuck did this? Oh, Stalin. Well that makes sense. Oh, though it makes me wonder why there are no notes on memory wipes from your first death. Well you were just a baby I suppose."

"I remember."

Another unblinking stare from the Frenchman. "You... remember?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Let's see who fucked that up. I didn't even check. Nero. Well I don't know why he did that, but it does help us now. Sets a precedent to letting you keep your memory next time. Or at least that's what we'll say. Remember this, Harry Potter. Always Cheat. Win."

"Right. Again, though. Doesn't it all not matter? I'm dead now. I'm going on..."

"Pay attention. You are not going on" Max was getting angry again, or maybe frustrated. "You are a prophecy victim... er. participant. You will go back and fulfill your destiny. If you do not, you will keep trying until you do. Free Will is a lie. You don't actually get a choice. Well, most people do. But prophecy takes precedence. You're fucked."

Harry nodded along. Yes, he was fucked. Great. Story of his life. Or lives he guessed.

Max was still rambling. Does death lead to woolgathering? Whatever. "And your ninth death was just now in the forest with Tom Riddle, and here we are. All caught up now?"

"Er." That was eloquent. "So, I have to go back. And I should cheat. That's about the extent of it right?"

Another unblinking stare. "You didn't listen at all did you? I pointed out multiple loopholes and precedents that we are going to exploit." Another deep breath. Count back from 20.

"Even exploiting things. However you want to do that. I'm dead, or my body is I guess, in Voldemort's camp. Even if I pop back up, he's right there with 30 death eaters."

"Mr. Potter. Did you listen when I explained death number 3? Re-Inserting in the timeline at an early time?" Harry could only give a sheepish look.

"You and your little red headed friend never stole a car to get to Hogwarts in your second year. You did the completely reasonable thing and waited for help to arrive from people exiting the platform. Therefore, you did not crash into a giant tree. Your friend did not break his wand. And when the fraud Lockhart tried to obliviate you with a stolen wand, it worked just fine. You ended up in the long-term care facilities at your St. Mungo's. Three years later, Death Eaters killed you quite easily in your hospital bed. Your agent HAD to send you back in the timeline to the beginning of that year. She also had to give your friend a gentle nudge to steal the car, and everything worked fine after that. That agent was very clever."

This time it was Harry's turn to blink dramatically at the chain of events that had been changed.

"She had to get authorization for you to be sent back so far. This gives US the chance to insert you quite a bit further back as well because the permission is already on your file."

"So, you want to send me back to what? Bill and Fleur's wedding or something?"

Max started to get the Manic Smile again. "That third death was not a one-year roll back. it was four years. Also, remember what I said about cheating? When Cleo (that was your agent) explained the reasons for the need to send you back, she conveniently left any dates off the approval forms. It's all still approved. We can do whatever the fuck we want!"

"I could save my parents."

As soon as Harry started to say it, Max started shaking his head. He knew what Harry would ask for. "No. I shouldn't have said anything. We can't go back before your first death. That's what started this whole thing. We can erase the time spent with other agents, but not the first because that's what put you into the system to begin with. It's a causality thing. I don't know. Anyway. We can send you to right after that happened. You will, of course, be a baby still. You will have your memories, but physically, a baby. And you will probably still end up with the Dursleys. That's another 10 years of hell, but if you want it, we can. I don't see a huge advantage to that, but let's brainstorm it."

"Fuck no. Hogwarts?"

"Possibility for sure, but let's not rush any decisions yet. Brainstorm. Plan. Cheat."

"Right. Is this why you said I was a problem case?"

"All of it together, yes. The technical designation, which gets you this big red flag on your file, is because of the multiple deaths as a subject of prophecy, very generically speaking. The more inclusive answer is how are we going to solve it. I don't intend to just slap you back in the timestream and tell you to go off and murder everyone. You'll go straight to jail like a moron."

Harry started to interrupt but was cut off.

"No, I am trying to get out of this shit job and move on. We. Will. Win. By cheating. We just have to figure out how."

Harry, who for that past year had been starving, felt the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders, and oh by the way had a fucking horcrux in his scar, was suffering from none of that now. He was finally able to think clearly for the first time in months (years?). "What about the prophecy?"

"What about it?"

"Well. That's what I have to fulfill right? So that's our objective, but also our guide? Like parameters?" Max nodded. "We should see how we can cheat with it."

Max smiled his serial killer smile. "Yes. Let's see." Max started mumbling again 'power? maybe blah blah. seventh month, can't change that. mark him. Enh. Power he knows not. Interesting. die at the hand of the other. maybe. blah blah blah. power again. Hmm.' "It talks a lot about power. we could screw with that."

"Dumbledore says," At Max's snort, Harry raised his hand. "I know, I know. But he says it's love. I think that's bullshite, especially after you told me it wasn't my mother's love that saved me as a baby. So what the fuck is the power He Knows Not?"

Max banged his fist on the table. "Excellent, yes indeed. Let's make a power."

"Huh?"

Max leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Harry watched. And waited. He eventually leaned back as well. And waited. After some unknowable time later Max broke the silence: "Have you thought of a power?"

"Uh. I thought you... No. I didn't. I'll keep thinking."

Max gave him quite a dubious look "Are you using your brain?"

"Yes, that's how I think."

"Explain your thought process to me then. Brainstorming is co-operative."

Harry started to panic. He wasn't thinking. He was just sitting, waiting for Max. Fuck. Uh. Hm. How would Hermione approach this? Gathering his thoughts, and his courage, "OK. He has 50 years of experience with magic over me so unless it's some kind of weird magic no one's ever heard of or super rare he probably knows it, or at least knows of it. Right?"

Max nodded encouragingly, "Yes, yes. Logical. Go on."

"I er... don't really know any rare magic or even how to find out what one would be. Is there like a secret elemental magic or something?"

"Not that I know of, but we are cheating here. We could invent something and see if it gets approved. Do you think that's what we need to do? Invent some new magic?"

Harry paused. Max was not asking a rhetorical question. He actually wanted Harry's opinion. He didn't answer Max immediately. Stop. Think. Apparently time means nothing. Let's not rush. "Well, it could be, but there could be better options. What if the power is just a muggle gun or something?"

Max didn't think so. "He grew up during the second World War. He has at least passing familiarity with firearms. Maybe not the modern stuff, but their existence, definitely. I wouldn't rule it out, but maybe keep thinking of other options."

Harry took that advice in. It was nice discussing this rationally with someone who wasn't judging him for not having all the answers cough, Ron in the tent. What did Max's statement imply?

Maybe something invented after Voldemort's time? What would that be? Telly? Nuclear power? He probably didn't want to drop an atomic bomb on Malfoy manor. Wait. That shit was from WW2 as well. Eh. Space travel, like the moon? Maybe. like a potion made with moon dust or some shit. but where would he get it. Table it. Computers? Dudley had one he never used. Video games? Dudley had those as well. Harry snorted. Yeah, he could challenge Voldy to a game of Mortal Kombat. He actually chuckled out loud at that.

Whatever was funny was apparently interesting to Max. "What has you snorting giggling over there?"

"I was just thinking about challenging Voldemort to a game of Mortal Kombat. It's a video game" Max apparently understood what video games were. Harry went on to explain the particulars of that game. "Maybe I could have a finishing move or something."

"I see."

"It's definitely something he would know not." Harry just chuckled. Harry thought it was an obvious joke and began to think of other new things he wouldn't know about.

Max, however, was now very interested. "Hmm. Your life is a bit like a video game already, isn't it. You keep dying and resetting back into the game world."

Harry was a bit taken aback but agreed and nodded slowly. Yes, it was a bit like that. "Too bad my mind keeps getting wiped, and I don't learn anything from the deaths."

"Yes, well not previously, but this time, we are going to keep your memory. But maybe we can use the learning function of dying as well..."

What the fuck.

Max was mumbling to himself now, "Yes, yes. I'll still be your agent until you get past your previous death. Yes. that could work. hm.."

This didn't look good for Harry. Max had the serial killer look again, and he was talking about learning from death. This fucker had already killed tens of thousands. Harry did not want to keep dying and said so.

"No of course you don't, but as I said, we can take advantage of it if it Does happen. I will still be your agent until we move past the point of your previous death, and we are going to stick you back several years. So, if you die in there somewhere, I can just pop you back in. Definitely. Perfect cheating. But not enough. You need to learn more than just 'Don't stand in front of that spell'."

Harry thought he was following him until that. "How are we going to do that?"

"Good question. Maybe some sort of learning system. Learn from life experience you know. Oh, I know. Did you ever play any role-playing games?

Harry and Max had spent quite a bit of time planning, practicing, and just playing dungeons and dragons so Harry could get a feel for the choices he would have to make. Time had no meaning there, so why not spend months learning the system and its options. Even after all of that, Harry was struck with indecisiveness. Analysis Paralysis, perhaps.

Welcome to the Character creation menu. Please select your race:

Human

Dwarf

Elf

Halfling

Gnome

Dragonborn

Half-Elf

Half-Orc

Tiefling

For all the practice games that Max and he had played, he never thought twice about the ramifications of not being human. But now. Now it was a real possibility. How would that actually relate to him and the world? Being a dragonborn or a Tiefling would probably cause problems. No. It would definitely cause problems. Non-human. The ministry would Not like that. And he wouldn't be able to spend any time in the muggle world.

Which is where he was now. Max had dropped him off back in 1988, in his cupboard. He had to bite back the revulsion and shudder. He had agreed with Max's reasoning at the time. He needed the extra time before Hogwarts to learn his new powers. And in 1988, he was at the Dursley's. Of course, he didn't need to stay here. But for now, it was as good a place as any to figure out his power options. He could make his way to Gringotts and his money when he was re-acclimatized to this time and body. He was a freaking child again. Ugh.

Back to his choices on his new handy heads-up display (and wasn't that a completely mind-warping change, to wake up with a freaking HUD in his eyeballs).

Race...

The obviously non-human things were out. He needed to be able to move about the muggle world without too much change.

Human, obviously. Half-Elf, if he grew his hair out could possibly be fine. Elf was probably too different. Gnome was probably also out; the noses after all. Halfling and dwarf were possible he supposed. There were little people in the muggle world. But did he really want to be so short? He spent years being the shortest in class. He eventually grew to a reasonable height, but he long remembered the annoyances.

Human or half-elf. Assuming he could hide his slightly different ears, halfies got the extra stat boost. That was good, well if he made a Charisma based character. 'No. Not a Character. Himself. He was permanently altering his... body? spirit? mind? all of the above? This is what I want for ME.'

He wondered if he could really be a charismatic person. He had hated the attention at Hogwarts. Even on the first day in the magical world when everyone in the Leaky Cauldron swarmed him. It was awful. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was even holding.

Perhaps he was looking at it backwards. What class was he going to pick? He might not have a choice in charisma if he was a warlock or something.

This rambling thought pattern was why he had been staring at his HUD choice for over an hour. It was a good thing that Max had put him here in the middle of the night. Or maybe Max had just anticipated this. He had a good feel for Harry's personality after so much time playing games together.

Class. It was something they had discussed at length. The race selection, in Max's opinion, was more Harry's preference. But class... This is what was going to be the power he knows not. It was a big deal. Harry had considered all the possibilities but had to admit Max's ideas were sound.

"Martial classes are useless in this situation."

Harry was confused by that. "How can you say that? They do so much damage?"

Max gave him the look one gives a child when they say they are going to invent rainbows or some other nonsense. "Are you telling me that you are going to walk around everywhere, muggle or magical, in armor, with a sword or something?"

Harry sighed. He liked playing paladins. They were a fun mix of magic and weapons, but Max was right. He couldn't walk down Oxford Street in plate mail with a halberd. He would get arrested.

That left purely magical, or mainly magical classes. Wizard (obviously, but also different from his normal wizardry), sorcerer, warlock, druid, cleric, bard.

Wizard was the obvious choice. He Was a wizard already. Just a different kind, right? Sort of. Whatever class he chose, we still going to have access to his wand magic. These were NEW powers. Wizard sounded good, but the wizards' power was versatility and both he and Max didn't believe he would have much access to scrolls to add to his spell book. Not that that would hamper him a lot. It just wouldn't be using the wizard's full potential. Plus, he would have to keep thinking about the other wizardry. That would be too confusing.

Cleric was probably a no. Although Max implied he was working for a divine aspect of some sort, and They were the ones to approve this crazy role-playing power and HUD, the cleric still would suffer from the armor and weapon issue. Plus his holy symbol was going to be the symbol for the Deathly Hallows. Not that he was working for death, but They thought it would be easy to blend in. He would just look like a nutter like Lovegood. No, thank you.

Sorcerer, warlock, druid, bard. Harry swallowed hard. Three of those were charisma classes. He really didn't know if he could do that. He might have to. Again, time to think backwards. Could he be a druid?

Shapeshifting would be super useful. Normal witches and wizards could learn to be Animagus's to turn into ONE animal. Wildshape alone was a powerful motivator to choose druid. Having all spells be available, but just choosing a few per day was annoying but powerful if you planned ahead. So, that was still on the list.

Bard. Probably a no. They were a fine class, but they were everything about Charisma that he didn't like. Even if you didn't have to do it that way, the class was designed around performance. Definitely no. Although, Viciously Mocking Voldemort to death WAS appealing. Still, that was not enough.

Warlock was an interesting idea. If he had gone with Cleric, Max said Harry's deity would be Max's boss. He didn't elaborate who that boss was. But if he chose warlock, Max would be his Patron. They (whoever They were) didn't want Harry beholden to someone outside the family, so to speak. Max as a patron. Good and bad, Harry figured. He knew Max, sort of. Max showing up randomly to give him orders wasn't a great feeling. He was a mass-murderer after all. He could just show up and tell Harry to kill Ron or something and Harry would have to do it or lose his warlock power. Huge downside. On the upside, warlocks were pretty useful. For a subclass, he couldn't choose a fiend warlock because that's the other team, but anything else which is not a horrible choice at all, and the invocations were neat. Did that outweigh Max showing up randomly with orders? Eh. No? Maybe? Harry was leaning towards no, but not outright. if there were better choices, then so be it.

His last option was sorcerer. Quite frankly, it seemed a boring choice as far as Harry's needs. Less spells than a wizard. They could use their sorcery points to make more spell slots, true, but he didn't truly anticipate that long of an adventuring day. He didn't go around delving dungeons and fighting all day where he would need that much access to continuous spellcasting. On the other hand: Subtle Spell. The singular ability to cast a spell that no one would ever be able to tell where it came from. No sound. No wand movements. Hell, if he didn't need a focus for the spell, he didn't need to do anything at all. He could look at someone and curse them. Wow. Also, cantrips. Sorcerers got more than anyone. And while they weren't always that great in-game, in the real world... they could change your life.

So really, druid and sorcerer were the leading candidates. That didn't solve his race dilemma. Back to racial choice. If he chose human, he could also choose to be a variant human. Feats. Ah, now that was enticing. And really, that's what it came down to. Did he want the stats from half-elf to include the Charisma bonus, the extra skill, and ...oh yeah, dark vision. Or did he want a feat.

A feat sounded ridiculously useful. Observant, Alert, Actor. As much as he didn't want to do any performances, pretending to be someone else sounded great. He could pick Elemental Adept and hurt things like trolls that are normally resistant to magic.

Another deep breath released. A troll in first year. Was he even going to go back to Hogwarts? He had three years to figure it out. Hermione. Would the troll kill her? Fuck. He needed to get back on track. Focus. Character crea... no Harry creation. Pick a fucking race!

Welcome to the Character creation menu. Please select your race:

Human

Please select your sub-race:

Human

Variant Human

Variant Human selected .

Phew. One decision made.

Please Select Your Alignment.

Did this matter? Would Alignment change the way he acted?

"Erm. help?"

"What's up Harry? Stuck already?"

"Max?"

"You got it! I won't always be responding directly like this, but we thought you might need a bit of a hand to start here. Don't get used to it. Remember my lessons!"

"Cheat."

"Precisely. Now. What's the problem?"

"Will alignment change me? Force me to act certain ways?"

"No. It might nudge you, only so far as to let you know that your actions might not be in accordance with your alignment, but the reality is, it doesn't matter. Probably don't want to pick evil though. Just better not to annoy the boss, you know."

"I might end up a processing agent. Right, thanks Max."

Harry's first thought was pick good. Neutral good probably. He was a bit of a rule-breaker. On the other hand, living his life that way had ended with him dying, repeatedly. And Max said it didn't matter.

Fuck it. Neutral.

Please select your additional language proficiency. English is your default language.

Additional language, hrm? French seemed reasonable. France was so close. Although, he could theoretically learn French in a language class. Other things were harder to learn. Like Goblin. Yeah, definitely.

Goblin Language selected.

"Harry"

Harry startled. He wasn't asking a question so why was Max talking to him again? "Yes, Max?"

"I'm not telling you not to pick Goblin, but I do want to warn you that it's not some secret to good relations with the Goblins or something. In fact, they might even think you are some sort of wizard spy."

"What? Why? I thought they would be happy someone was respecting them and their culture and bothered to learn their language."

"Nope. They will still hate you. They are goblins. They hate everyone who is not goblin. That doesn't mean the language is useless to learn. You could listen to them talk while they don't suspect you are understanding anything. In that case, you would sort of be a spy. Just don't walk into the bank spouting off in goblin language."

"Right. Lessens the usefulness of it."

French Language selected.

Please select your bonus stats. Make 2 selections to receive 1:

Strength

Dexterity

Constitution

Intelligence

Wisdom

Charisma

This definitely did not help. He basically had to pick his class now. And his stat allocation. And.. and ... why were these choices in this order? Fuck.

"Can we skip ahead to class?"

Please select your class:

Back to square one, I guess. Druid or sorcerer. Wildshape or subtle spell. Did he really want to be a nature guy? Live in the forest? It may be useful to find food especially while young, but... and he liked animals. Close eyes. Deep breath. No. As useful as it was. He wanted to be around people more. Sorcerer it is. Charisma. Fuck.

Sorcerer confirmed.

Please select skill proficiencies:

Arcana

Deception

Insight

Intimidation

Persuasion

Religion

Huh. Wasn't there a human skill? Oh right, I skipped ahead. Well. Arcana seems legit. Understanding magic seems relevant. "Hey Max, will the Arcana skill help with my normal wizardry?"

The answer didn't immediately pop up, which made Harry assume they hadn't anticipated this.

"Yes. Wizardry is arcane in nature."

"Sweet" That made an easy choice. The second was less so. Insight seemed incredibly useful. But it was also a wisdom skill so it would be limited. Deception and Persuasion. He didn't really fancy lying, but he was going to have to hide all of this game stuff. And he was going to be running around as an eight-year-old, pretending his parents were just over there or whatever. Yeah. Deception. "Huh. That feels more like something I picked because I'm neutral. Old, good Harry probably wouldn't have done so." Enh, whatever.

Selection made.

Choose a Sorcerous Origin:

He knew they weren't offering him everything. Much like the fact that he couldn't be a fiend warlock, he couldn't choose all of the sorcerer options.

Still, he had several choices.

Aberrant Mind

Divine Soul

Draconic

Wild Magic

He knew draconic sorcerer was strong inside the role-playing game, but it fell into the same problem as the races: how to blend into muggle society when he had bloody dragon scales on his face. Someone would definitely send him to a dermatologist.

Wild Magic seemed fun, but he was Harry bloody Potter with the shittiest luck around. He didn't need to turn himself into a potted plant or launch a fireball at his own feet because his magic decided chaos was good.

Divine Soul seemed obvious. He was working for the divine. Sort of. And you got to pick spells from the cleric spell list. Great bonus. The downside was that the sorcerer already got so few spells that choices were already tight. Possible

Aberrant seemed strong just because of the tight spell choices and the fact that it gave bonus spells. Creepy as hell though. Urgh. It's probably the best choice. He did pick sorcerer just to use subtle spell after all.

Selection Made.

Please assign points to your stats:

27-points to be allocated:

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 8

Constitution: 8

Intelligence: 8

Wisdom: 8

Charisma: 8

Ok. Max wanted him to power game. His constant yelling about Cheating and Power Gaming! were probably some sub-conscious reason that drove him to pick aberrant sorcerer anyway. Deep breath. Charisma. Fuck. Fine.

What else? Dump strength probably. He's never been that strong and it won't be much of a change from before. At one point he had asked Max what he thought Harry's old stats might be. Max waffled a bit since there was no direct correlation, but offered a close approximation:

Str: 10, Dex: 13, Con: 12, Int: 10, Wis 14, Cha, 10

At first, Harry had been a bit insulted. It seemed so average compared to the characters they had been using in their mini campaigns to get Harry used to the ruleset. Strength, sure. He was no Adonis. Dex, above average based on his skill at quidditch. Ok, but maybe it could be higher? Max firmly rejected that.

He asked him to compare himself to Victor Krum. Krum was flat out better, and quite frankly, quidditch was only a bit related to Dex. Especially for him as a seeker, Wis was just as important, if not more-so. Krum was higher there, too, as Max was quick to point out.

At least he didn't give him any negative numbers.

Or that's how Harry saw it. Max saw it as a negative that he didn't have any negatives. At least in terms of planning for the future. 'Power Game!' He was like Moody with his shouts of constant vigilance only this was cheat and power game.

So, what did he need now. Charisma. Fuck. He should just make that one word: charismafuck. Maybe he should give himself some fucking brains this time? If he can puzzle shit out, maybe he wouldn't be in position to rely on stupid Potter luck.

Constitution was probably fine where it was before. He could save a point on Dex if Max's numbers were any indicator. Or even drop it if he wanted to not worry about quidditch. It was good for dodging spells though. maybe 12.

How's that look?

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 12

Intelligence: 13

Wisdom: 13

Charisma: 15

If he put Con down to 10, he could bump Int to 14. Deep breaths. He was getting 1 to two different stats which would be Charisma (fuck) and either Int or Wis. Probably Intelligence. Unless he dropped constitution. Decisions, decisions. Constitution probably meant less time in the hospital and helped keep him alive against the basilisk. But, if he planned ahead because he was smarter, he wouldn't have to worry about that, right?

He thought Max might approve of that plan.

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 10

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 13

Charisma: 15

"Can we go back to the racial choices? I have bonus points from there."

Please select your bonus stats. Make 2 selections to receive 1:

Strength

Dexterity

Constitution

Intelligence

Wisdom

Charisma

"Plus 1 to Wisdom and Charisma"

Selection confirmed. Please select a skill to gain proficiency in:

Athletics, Acrobatics, Sleight of Hand, Stealth, Arcana, History, Investigation, Nature, Religion, Animal Handling, Insight, Medicine, Perception, Survival, Deception, Intimidation, Performance, Persuasion

That was a lot of choices. He already had Arcana and Deception. Performance was out. Nature might help with herbology? History would probably help with history of magic. But should he pick skills just for Hogwarts classes?

No, his goal was the destruction of Voldemort.

Insight still seemed useful, and he did end up with a decent Wisdom score. Stealth also seemed pretty good with how much sneaking around he did. Sleight of Hand could be useful while he was mucking about in the muggle world.

There was a million ways to analyze it, but his instincts said insight was the most well-rounded skill.

Selection Confirmed. Please select a background:

Ok. more skills. This is actually great. maybe a language as well. That's useful. Folk Hero seems obvious: boy-who-lived. He didn't know if he wanted those skills though. Of course, he could do a custom background. Sage seems more useful.

"Harry"

Deep sighs. They were going to force folk hero.

"Yes, Harry. You will have to stay a Folk Hero for the boy-who-lived nonsense. However, you can swap out a tool proficiency for a language if you want."

"Thanks Max." Harry was grumbling, but it was better than nothing. Animal Handling and survival were ok as far as skills he might need. Not his first choice. Land Vehicles was probably useful. That included a lot. Tool proficiency. Uh. Erm. He wasn't sure. Then he thought about the animal handling and the language.

"Max, am I still a Parseltongue?"

"No."

Harry wondered if it was worthwhile to get it again. He never really used it for much other than the chamber of secrets, but if he did have to deal with that situation again, he would need the skill.

"I guess it's not much of a choice really. So much for the idea of living up to my name and picking Potter's tools as a proficiency."

Selection Confirmed.

Please select four (4) sorcerer cantrips:

He didn't know who chose the order of operations here, but this was not an ideal selection order. Whatever. Cantrips!

He would need something for attacking until he could level up or get his wand, which ever came first, so Fire Bolt seemed an easy pick. And Prestidigitation was practically required with how much utility you could squeeze into one little cantrip. Light a fire, clean your clothes, flavor your food. Far too good not to take.

God, there were so many choices. Mending, Mage Hand, Gust, Light, Friends, Shape Water, Minor Illusion, even more. He could find a use for all of them, but if he kept this up, he would never finish. Gut feeling. Mage hand. Fine. Mending seems low-key broken, but when he gets a wand, Reparo will do fine. Of course he's underage and can't cast shit... fuck. Mending then.

Selection Confirmed. Please select two (2) first-level spells:

Disguise self seems incredibly useful when trying to make people think you don't have the body of an 8-year-old. But Harry wouldn't always be 8. Of course, he would always be Harry Potter and that wasn't much better. Possible.

Should he think about long term? Comprehend languages could be incredible with some of the archaic magic books out there written in dead languages. Did the regular wizarding world have translation spells? He didn't know. Hermione had never mentioned anything like it.

Charm person would be immediately useful. Maybe he could take Charm now and swap it later. He could swap a single spell out at level up. Seems reasonable. He didn't need a ton of attack and defend spells now (he hoped), and he had Fire Bolt if he really needs to fuck someone's day up. Of course, Charm Person would be way more useful when he levels to 2, but who knew how long it would take to get experience. He couldn't exactly go pick a fight with the goblins.

Fuck it. Disguise Self and Charm Person.

Selection Confirmed.

Choose a Feat (Variant Human):

Another hour was spent weighing the pros and cons of quite an extensive list of feats. He thought he had it narrowed down to Elemental Adept for magic-resistant creatures and Prodigy. Expertise was so good, and he could make a case for expertise in Deception or Arcana. Of course, he could always multi-class. That was something that Max and he had discussed only briefly when talking about power gaming. Since he wasn't going to be making any Paladin-warlock or sorcerer-paladins, he had stopped considering it.

Now though. The thought of expertise called to him. He had two options, he thought. Rogue or bard. He didn't have a 13 in dexterity so that meant bard. Deep breath. That's... that's a problem for future me. We'll just go with all burning fire for now.

Character creation complete. Prepare for download.

You wot mate?

All-consuming pain. Worse than when Voldemort possessed him at the department of Mysteries fiasco. He tried not to scream, but it couldn't be helped. Seconds later, the agony caused him to lose consciousness. He never heard Petunia banging on the cupboard door to tell him to shut up. He didn't see her open the cupboard.

What Petunia saw was the boy passed out covered in sweat, face flushed, barely breathing. He might have been dying. She was just glad he stopped yelling. It was only half five after all; she did not want to be awake. She would never get back to sleep now, and it was the boy's fault. Well, he could just stay in there all day for all she cared. She closed and locked the door. harry would not notice because he would not wake up until the following night.

Harry Potter

Sorcerer (Level 1)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 10

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 14

Charisma: 16

Feat(s): Elemental Adept (Fire)

Skills Proficiencies: Animal Handling, Arcana, Deception, Insight, Survival, Land Vehicles

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue

Level 1 Spells: Disguise Self, Charm Person

Chapter 3: New Powers. New Life.

Chapter Text

Harry didn't wake up until almost midnight, the following night. Apparently having aberrant sorcerous powers forced into your body and tons of knowledge and skills forced in your brain was a bit traumatic. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew it was long enough that he had wet himself. PRESTIDIGITATION! All better. Probably not something he wanted to make a habit of, but it helped in the moment.

Fuck this was weird. Did he have spell slots now? He was checking his new HUD, but he didn't see anything to indicate either way.

"Max."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do I have spell slots or what? Can I just cast forever?"

"Ah, well, you know what I always say?"

"Cheat"

"Yes, cheat. Well, when I was explaining the HUD and the powers and the system to the bosses, I may have left out a bit about limiting powers via spell slots. I believe they expect it to work on your innate magic. So, you should be able to cast until you are magically exhausted."

"Erm. Max, I rarely get exhausted."

"Exactly. CHEAT." Harry only heard laughter after that.

Well, that was good, he supposed. more versatile. Though, what was going to do with all the sorcery points? Is this the universe telling him to multi-class? Harry shook his head. Thoughts for future Harry. Right now, he needed to start implementing the plans that he and Max had brainstormed.

Time to cast his first cantrip. Wait, he had already done so, hadn't he? He prestidigitated without even thinking. Man, the integration into his psyche is pretty good. No wonder it hurt like such a cunt.

MAGE HAND

Mage hand was practically custom made for this situation, and it easily opened the latch on the cupboard door to release him. As soon as he stepped outside, his HUD chimed.

Quest Received!

"Erm, quest?"

"Yes, Harry. The people upstairs are controlling them. It's one of the reasons I was able to sell the idea. It will alleviate some of the cosmic boredom to fuck with you... I mean help direct you in your mission. There is no penalty for not completing quests, however, it's a great way to get experience. Unless you want to just go pick a fight with all the goblins?"

"No! No. Quests seem like a good idea. How do I see the quests?"

"Just say 'Quest Menu'"

"Quest Menu"

"Two Open Quests:

Get to Gringotts!

Defeat Voldemort!"

"Right. Uh. Read quest Defeat Voldemort?"

Defeat Voldemort!

Prevent the Dark Lord from ever hurting anyone ever again.

100.000 XP

"Interesting that it doesn't say kill him."

"Well, you are a cheater, aren't you? You could cryogenically freeze him or something so he isn't really dead, but he can't ever leave, and he can't be resurrected because he isn't dead. Just one idea. Figure something out. Or just kill him and the horcruxes. Whatever you want."

"Huh. Wonder which would be easier. Oh well, future-me problems. Not 8-year-old me problems for sure. Uh. Read quest 'Get to Gringotts.'"

Get to Gringotts!

Can't do anything in this world without money. Get thee to the bank!

100 XP.

"Bit of an xp difference in those. But I guess the difficulty is quite different. I can just summon... nothing. I can't summon the knight bus without a wand. Fuck. Ok, that's a real quest for now, unless I wait for Hagrid to show up in 3 years."

After a successful stealth check (the Dursley's were asleep after all, he probably had advantage), Harry was leaving number 4 Privet Drive with 140 pounds from Petunia's emergency stash in the box of rice cakes. This body had been living with them for going on 6 years now, and he doubted they had spent 140 pounds on him in total. Well, that was probably an exaggeration, but it felt good to think it. If he felt guilt later, he would mail them some money. Maybe. He smiled. If he did, he would send it by owl.

It was a bit of a walk to the bus stop, especially as he was trying to stay back from the street. It wouldn't do for someone to look out their window and see an 8-year-old walking alone at midnight. He had plenty of time though. The regular bus service wouldn't pick up until morning, when the commuters started their days.

As Harry sat waiting for the bus, he decided to explore the different menus and options available in the HUD. It was this distraction that allowed the large grey and black wolf to stalk up to him and attack. Now, a wolf is only a combat challenge rating of , meaning it was theoretically a good challenge, but conquerable obstacle for Harry. That assumes that Harry was paying attention and wasn't a squishy sorcerer.

Harry awoke in front of Max's desk. Max was not happy. "Already?"

Harry was quite confused. "Where the fuck did a wolf come from in Great Britain?""

"We sent it to give you an opportunity to experience combat with your new powers. Apparently you need the practice. Now, what did you learn?"

Harry was fuming mad. They sent a fucking wolf to attack him. He was at a god damned bus stop. He shouldn't have to be looking out for wolves. He relayed this to Max in an appropriate manner, with shouting, swearing, and rude hand gestures.

Max was mildly amused. "Maybe when I reinsert you in the timeline, you should consider a respec."

"Huh?"

The serial killer grin was looking back at him now. "It's just that you didn't seem to do too well with the sorcerer and the stat allocation you chose. Maybe you want to try something else?"

"Can I do that?" Harry was completely perplexed now. He had thought that he would be stuck.

"Of course. If I stick you in the timeline after you just were placed in your cupboard, but before you chose any options, you wouldn't have been a sorcerer, now would you?"

That actually made a lot of sense. The question was, did he want to do that. He thought he had a lot of logical sense into his choices. He HAD put a lot of thought in it. He had just been under the false assumption that he would not be facing combat as an 8 year old.

Did he want to respec? Not necessarily, but he obviously didn't do well. The better question was should he?

"OK, Max. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Let's brainstorm it!"

Harry wanted to groan, but instead just closed his eyes and sat back. He began to think, not about changing classes, but why Max always called it brainstorming, but wanted Harry to come up with the ideas. He supposed that Max at least worked on the ideas that Harry came up with.

So, what class? Sorcerer was chosen solely for Subtle spell, and he didn't even get a chance to use it. It was a good plan. Max wanted him to cheat, and Subtle Spell seemed like cheating. Maybe it was just his stats that were poorly chosen. Though he did want decent intelligence, and wisdom just seemed really important. It didn't leave a lot of room for anything else when he HAD to have Charisma.

The only solution to that was to not need charisma. Huh. That was a breakthrough or something. He explained his thought processes to Max.

"Yes, yes. I understand. The question is, if you want decent intelligence and wisdom, what class do you pick? Wizard? Druid? Cleric?"

Harry was already thinking this through. He had experience in it now after how long he spent in the cupboard. "Well druid was already my second choice, and if I'm relying on Wild Shape, I won't have to worry about my physical side as much, right?"

Max nodded slowly. "True. Why didn't you consider Wizard? You are, after all, a wizard already?"

Harry started mumbling and looking down. Max was not going to let that go. "Speak up, Harry."

"I didn't want to worry about saying 'Wizardry or Other Wizard Magic' or some other stupid distinguishing… thing."

"So. You ignored the potentially most powerful class in the game because of semantic convenience?"

"Erm. I guess. Yes." Harry was bright red in embarrassment at this point. It sounded so stupid when Max pointed it out like that. "But also! Also, I didn't think I could live up to the full potential of a wizard without spell scrolls. I can't get them because they don't exist, and I couldn't copy them into a spell book because I wouldn't have rare inks and shit."

Max didn't respond immediately. "That's a slightly better reason. Though, even without additional spell scrolls, the wizard is still a powerful class." Max leaned back and slowly blinked. Was that the fourth time? Or Fifth? That Harry had seen that? In all of the time he had spent with Max. Why the fuck didn't he blink?

Eventually Max started to speak again, "I won't tell you not to pick druid. It's a fine class. I would just like that you consider wizard, and in return, I will speak to the boss and see if something can be done about scrolls. Maybe we could seed them into the world or something. Have enemies have them on their person as loot. Who knows."

Harry didn't answer right away. He had long since learned that they had all the time in the universe, so he had time to consider his options. He was very slowly training himself out of his Gryffindor-like nature to jump in head first. He briefly thought on his second year and the brilliant decision to jump down a pipe that he had no idea where it led or if he would die just from the landing. Hell, even first year, he and Ron and Hermione had jumped down the trap door without so much as a light sent down the hole. If the devil's snare wasn't there, they would have all broken their legs, or worse.

Harry considered his options. Druid was the safer choice. It was a pre-set spell repertoire. It had healing magic. He could freaking heal himself. It was less useful without a party to heal, but it would be useful. He would have to keep the wild shaping a secret. Nosy professors and ministry personnel would assume he was an Animagus. If he got caught, even if he didn't get in trouble for not registering, he would only be able to show that single form. If people found out he had multiple forms, he would end up a test subject in the Department of Mysteries or worse, Hermione would badger him to teach her. She would probably do that anyway after she finished scolding him for learning to be an Animagus as a child.

Harry had played a wizard a couple times while he and Max had done their planning and practice sessions. It held tremendous potential. It was also a huge risk. It was squishier than the sorcerer even. Although, if that wolf hadn't surprised him, he might have been ok. Hm. Maybe a different feat was in order.

"OK. I want to respec, and I'll give a wizard a try."

Max got his biggest sinister-ass smile yet. "excellent. I'll talk to a few people about scrolls. Do you know which subclass you would want?"

"Well, I hadn't got that far yet. I guess since I have to kill Voldemort, Evocation would be good, yeah?"

Max demurred. This was not what Harry expected. He expected a head nod, a pat on the shoulder, and getting jammed back in the cupboard.

"Before you decide, you have some time yet, consider the following: Necromancy is probably not the spec you want. I don't even know if it will be an option from the bosses, but don't pick it. Optics, you know. Secondly, consider Divination." Harry started to protest, but Max wasn't letting him interrupt now. "I know you have issues with that shit class you took in school, but this is a different system. You KNOW that. It is an incredibly powerful subclass on the wizard chassis. Just consider it. There are other options that could work. Enchantment could help. Conjuration would be useful. Just don't rule out Divination. Give it a fair chance when weighing the options."

Harry reluctantly agreed. He would consider it. He didn't have to actually choose it.

He awoke in his cupboard.

Welcome to the Character creation menu. Please select your race:

Human

Dwarf

Elf

Halfling

Gnome

Dragonborn

Half-Elf

Half-Orc

Tiefling

He had the outline of a plan this time. He was still going with Variant Human. In reality, he kind of was a variant already. He was magical. Muggles were different, but they were human. The reason that he was picking Variant Human, though, was the feat. And not Elemental Adept this time. No, no no. He wasn't about to get eaten by a wolf again before he even knew what was happening. No, he was taking Alert. No more surprises. Or as Moody would say: constant vigilance. Mad-Eye would be so proud.

He would take a survival-oriented skill distribution this time as well. He didn't need Charisma, so he would have points for some dexterity and constitution. His stat distribution left him with 2 points. He could remove the penalty from strength or charisma (fuck). Well, he didn't want people to hate him worse. An even ten would make him perfectly average. That should let him blend in, right? What could he need strength for anyway?

He wouldn't be taking deception this time (the only redeeming factor in charisma bonuses). The stupid folk-hero background was really restricting him. Sage would be way better.

"Max"

"Yes, Harry."

"Can I pleeeasseee skip folk hero this time? I need to take sage. It's important. Besides, its not like I won't be the boy-who-lived. It just won't be the defining thing about me. And I AM a sage. I went to fucking magic school for 6 years. Doesn't that make me a scholar?"

"Stand by Harry. I'll have to try to talk to someone. I agree with you, for what it's worth. We need to get you every advantage we can."

Harry thought about the folk-hero background. The only thing he would really miss was land vehicles. Not that he needed it, but he had a funny thought that the Hogwarts Express was a land vehicle. He could totally hijack the train to school. Or would that be train-jack?

He didn't know how long he mused in the dark of his cupboard waiting for Max. He had gone through the other choices fairly quickly. He didn't need to analyze nearly as much this time, so he was still ahead of schedule.

"Harry, they have agreed on the condition that you still select Parseltongue as one of your language choices. They didn't say specifically, but I have to assume they still expect you to deal with the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, you still have free will in what you do after you select Parseltongue."

Harry could almost hear Max smirking in the type-written text.

Sage, with Parseltongue, and he was taking Goblin this time since he had an extra language. He could at least hear them sneer at everyone. Who knows, maybe after he changes everything a new goblin rebellion will start. Sage comes with arcana and history, so got to go back and pick up deception and investigation which was basically a whim. Deception seemed still important even without big charisma bonuses. He couldn't very well tell everyone he had secret wizard powers that were different than normal wizard powers and he had a HUD, and he knew Maximilian Robespierre.

The only thing that took a bit of time was his spell selection. He only got 3 cantrips which was less than great, but he got to pick out six first-level spells.

One of the great things about wizards that he had forgotten was rituals. He didn't even need to prepare the spells. He could just do the ritual. Many things became way more useful: comprehend language, identify, and unseen servant.

Yes this already seemed like a better start. He grabbed shield to protect himself with his now more vigilance-focused mindset and sleep as it would be an effective non-aggressive encounter ender with muggles.

He finalized his selections and blacked out from the agony of the download. He had forgotten this part or he would have told Max to take his respec and shove it.

Harry Potter

Wizard (Level 1)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Charisma: 10

Feat(s): Alert

Skills Proficiencies: Arcana, Deception, History, Insight, Investigation

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue, Goblin

Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation

Level 1 Spells: Charm Person, Disguise Self, Identify, Shield, Sleep, Unseen Servant

Chapter 4: Combat!

Chapter Text

Just like the previous attempt, Harry slept through Petunia's banging. He slept through the day completely and woke up around midnight the next night.

PRESTIDIGITATION to clean himself.

MAGE HAND to break out of the cupboard.

Grab the cash from the rice cake box

Travel to the bus stop without being seen.

This time as he sat at the bus stop, he noticed the wolf. Whether he was just prepared because it happened before, or because he was now Alert, didn't matter. As soon as he saw it he was casting. Harry's adrenaline was pumping but he didn't panic. He couldn't take the stupid thing on in a fair confrontation.

SLEEP

It may lose effectiveness later, but for now, for a single wolf, Sleep dropped the overgrown puppy / killing machine like a Stupefy. Fire Bolt probably wouldn't kill it in one shot. It might not kill it in two, but he had to give himself the best chance at survival. He moved 120 feet away from the wolf. If would give him at least two shots at the beast.

FIRE BOLT

The wolf was awake instantly, and it was not happy. Its fur was smoking. It was making a noise that was some combination of a screech and a growl. It immediately zeroed in on Harry and began to move towards him.

FIRE BOLT

It hit, barely, but it didn't drop the thing for good. It flinched at the hit, but it was mad with bestial rage at this point. Nothing was going to deter it. It was practically on top of Harry at this point.

FIRE BOLT

He missed. Fuck this was going badly. The wolf lunged at him for what was probably another death blow, but Harry, instincts born of years of fighting death eaters was not going to go down without a fight. He threw his hand out:

SHIELD

The wolf clanged off the arcane barrier but was still desperately trying to eat him. In what was probably his last chance he unleashed his cantrip again.

FIRE BOLT

It connected. The wolf collapsed, dead. Harry collapsed, exhausted. Such a small skirmish and he was drained, but he was alive. His HUD chimed:

50 XP gained!

Huzzah. Harry stood back up, shoulders hunched, back bent like an old man, and made his way over to the bus stop to sit again. "I really hope you don't send any more wolves right now. I'm quite sure I'll die." After he said that, he closed his eyes to rest. He had 4 hours before the first bus would arrive.

An hour-long bus ride into London had given Harry a lot of time to think. The nap had done wonders, and after he hesitantly said aloud to his HUD 'Arcane Recovery?', he felt some of his magic replenish. He would probably need to disguise himself to get through the Cauldron and into the Diagon Alley.

As he rode the bus, he thought about what he was doing, or rather not doing. He wasn't planning at all. He was just following his quest to get to Gringotts. Then what was he going to do? Grab some money, sure, but he hadn't planned where to go after that. For all of Max's scheming on power to survive, the two of them hadn't put much effort into mapping out the first steps.

Maybe he should have picked druid. Then he could go live in a forest or something while he trained. Of course, he would probably be found. He was 8. Even if he got a wand, it would have the trace. He couldn't put up the protections that Hermione that taught them. Or would it have the trace? If he bought the wand while disguised, would the trace be applied? Was the trace on the wand automatically or applied when it was bought by a newly minted 11-year-old on their way to Hogwarts? Harry had no idea.

Maybe he should leave the country. Neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry would look for him outside Britain. He could buy a wand then leave. The trace wouldn't report from France, right? Or farther afield maybe. Though if he bought a wand in Britain, assuming from Ollivander's, wouldn't he end up with the Holly and Phoenix feather again? Would Ollivander report the sale of the wand to Dumbledore, and would that trigger a manhunt for young Harry? So many questions.

Perhaps he could buy a wand in another country, then travel to a third country. A convoluted plan, but it would theoretically work. France was closest, and he needed a wand as soon as possible. His French language skills would be immediately useful which was nice. It also opened the world up to him quite a bit. He wouldn't be restricted to English-speaking countries.

Decisions, decisions.

One thing was sure, his quest was right. He needed money to do anything.

He ducked into an alley to use DISGUISE SELF to make himself look older, taller, and definitely not Potter-like. He was close enough to the Leaky Cauldron to have nearly an hour before he reverted.

He asked Tom to open the alley on account of his wand breaking in some unspecified manner. Tom never asked too many questions, except to be friendly.

Harry made it to Gringotts simply enough. There were few people in the alley and even fewer in the bank. Approaching a teller, he explained that he lost his key and needed to access his account. The teller was not impressed. He was led to a small conference room and told to wait. A fortunately brief wait before someone showed.

"You claim to have lost your key. Which vault?"

"687."

"Oh? You're the Potter child?"

Harry was stuck at this point. They weren't going to be happy about him being disguised. "Yes. I'm in disguise."

"Of course you are," the goblin was sneering. "Do you have any identification?"

"No."

The goblin smirked at him. He hadn't even given Harry a name. "Then how do you propose to prove who you are without your key?"

"Do you have any magical ways to verify it?" Harry was starting to get nervous. This went back to Max's lack of planning the initial steps. Maybe he assumed that Harry would just know what to do, or maybe this was why this was a fucking quest just to get money from Gringotts.

The most vicious smile Harry had ever seen played across the goblin's face. And that was saying a lot considering he spent months with a mass murderer. "100 galleons."

Harry paused. That was a lot of money. Money he didn't have until he got into his vault. "I can pay it after I get access."

"What if you fail to prove yourself? Gringotts will be owed."

Harry said nothing. He had nothing to say. What could he say? He was furiously thinking about how hard it would be to rob some muggles and convert the pounds to galleons.

The goblin had another idea, one that was apparently very amusing. "You will sign a contract against your life and magic swearing your identity. If you fail, you die. Painfully. The amusement I will get out of watching you die in agony will be the compensation for the contract service itself. If you don't die, then you will owe 100G for the contract service fee and Gringotts will extend to you a line of credit of 200G with 22% interest rate. You can then pay for the actual inheritance test which also costs 100G. If that test shows you deserve access to vault 687, a 50G charge will be assessed against the vault to issue you a new key. If you wish to void the old key, that costs 50G as well."

The goblin was highly amused at this point. Harry guessed that he worked on commission, or really wanted him to die in agony. Or both.

"Agreed."

The nasty little thing just laughed at him. "Wait here."

Five minutes later, the tiny devil was back with a three-page contract, affirming that he was indeed Harry James Potter, that he agreed to pay 100 galleons for this contract itself if he didn't die, that he was further entitled to access vault 687 by the will and intent of the previous owner, James Potter, blah blah blah, lots of legalese, he and his descendants or any family or acquaintances or anyone could never sue Gringotts if he died from this. Etc., etc.

He was handed a blood quill. Harry figured if he did die, he could go back and punch Max in the face for not planning this properly. Sure, Harry needed to be a responsible for himself, but he wasn't thinking about that in the face of an hour of excruciating pain before death if this went wrong somehow.

Harry James Potter. In his blood. He felt the scratching across his hand where the quill pulled at him. The goblin was watching very intently, its eyes very large and tinged with excitement. He clearly wanted to see Harry scream.

Sadly for the goblin, nothing happened after that. Clearly the magically binding contract that would take his life found him worthy. Or at least it found that he found himself worthy. It was hard to tell with intent-based magic.

Shoulders dropping in disappointment, the goblin pulled out a second contract for the line of credit for 200G for 22% interest. Harry would be paying that back today. Contract signed, a bag of gold was placed in front of a very frustrated Harry. This was taking too long. He wasn't going to get out of the alley before his disguise fell.

He was finally able to pay for an inheritance test. The goblin (who still hadn't even given him a name) pulled out a bowl with a small column in the center. "Place your can on the column."

Having never done an inheritance test in his previous life (maybe older lives?), Harry was not ready for needles to lance out of the column while the equivalent of a sticking charm held his hand in place. Blood poured from his hand until he started to get a little woozy. It finally stopped when he started getting cold feelings in his mouth.

When the bowl released him, the goblin handed him a single tissue. "Don't bleed on my table or you will be charged a 35G cleaning fee."

Harry used his other hand to cradle his wounded one and catch all the blood on himself. The goblin chanted over the bowl and dumped the blood over A3-sized parchment. The blood was completely absorbed like the ink in Riddle's diary. The words started forming quite clearly:

Harry James Potter

Father: James Fleamont Potter

Mother: Lily Marie Evans

Entitlements: Vault 687

That was it. He thought there would be… more. Why have a giant piece of A3-sized parchment for that? Probably why the damn test cost 100G.

The goblin was again disappointed. Harry was sure that he was hoping he would not be eligible for any vault, blood quill contract or no. Then he would be on the hook for 200G at 22% interest. The goblin asked if he would like the old key terminated, and a new one issued.

Harry thought it weird to describe a key's destruction as termination, but sure he would take that.

Finally, Harry was at his vault, new key in his pocket, staring at mountains of gold. He had never had time to look around the vault before. His 11-year-old eyes were always drawn in by all the gold. It's probably why he was such a good seeker. Now with a clearer, older head he looked past the treasure. There wasn't much. A couple of trunks, probably his parents' school supplies. A few binders of legal documents on a shelf. Oh? What was that? Hidden in the legal documents were property deeds. Of course the Potters had more than just a fucking cottage in Godric's Hollow! They were quite an old family. He would be taking that. He really needed a wand. He searched through the trunks, but there weren't any in there. He would just take the legal papers for now. He did pull a pouch out of one of the trunks to carry some gold in. He filled it as much as would fit. He wanted to pay the goblins there 244G for the test and contract services. (The key fees were taken directly from the vault).

Finally back in the lobby he went to a teller for regular banking services. "Is there a way to access my vault from out of the country?"

The teller was grumbling in goblin language about dumbass wizard fucks, but replied in English, "Gringotts has branches in most major countries in the world. You can access your account from any Gringotts branch, for a small fee."

Harry figured 'small fee' was 10 galleons, but kept the thought to himself. "Is there a way to make lots of muggle purchases, like a credit card?"

"You could get a credit card."

Harry tried very hard not to roll his eyes or make a deep sigh. "Does Gringotts offer a credit card that draws from my account directly, that is usable in the muggle world?"

"250G per year for the card. 1% of purchases cost in fees for every purchase."

That. Was. Absurdly costly in the long run, but Harry wanted to spend a lot of time muggle to avoid whatever Dumbledore might do to track him down. He didn't actually know how much effort Dumbledore would put forth, but it was better safe than sorry.

A few minutes later he was out of the bank and received a notification in the HUD:

Quest Complete: Get to Gringotts!

100 XP Received!

That felt good. It felt like he actually accomplished something. Maybe the HUD had some sort of dopamine effect when you finished a quest to encourage him to keep doing quests. Max said they were optional, but he didn't say anything about not nudging him in the direction they wanted.

He received a pop up for two new quests, but he was rushing back to the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to get a room while his disguise was up. He was pretty sure it had been close to an hour. As it was, he was able to rent a room for the night under the name Patrick Stewart. Unless a muggle-born was asking about it, then he would be fine. He asked for the day's meals to be delivered to his room and rushed off to privacy.

He checked his new quests while eating his breakfast.

Get a Wand!

50 XP

Get Out of Britain!

100XP

Those made sense. Maybe this was why Max didn't make any detailed plans with him. Perhaps he couldn't get quests for things that were easy or that he knew exactly how to solve. That made sense. Huh. Being an intelligence based character was quite a different experience. He could reason his way thorough things much better. Ugh. Person. Not character. He had to stop thinking of himself as a fucking RPG character.

He started going through the legal documents. More specifically he was looking at the deeds to the properties he owned. He owned. No one ever told him. He had been to his vault like 3 times. He didn't suspect anything nefarious, but just fuck. That was a shitty life when he didn't even know he owned property.

He had three properties outside of Britain. There was a flat in Paris, a small cottage in Greece, and a bunch of land in Alaska, America. He was getting a wand in France. There was no question about that. He couldn't stand how many of his problems could have been solved if just had a damned wand. No wonder they snapped your wand if you got expelled. People were practically helpless without them.

Wand in France meant leaving France immediately after so no trace. Wait, did France even have a trace? He really needed Hermione for shit like this. He would just have to assume they did something. They had to protect the statute of secrecy. So, he would leave France and go to Greece or America. Greece would be a lot easier to get to. America was so far, and if he remembered Alaska was even farther. Greece's proximity was good and bad. Easier to get to for him also meant easier for searchers. He didn't speak Greek which could be a problem. America was English-speaking, sort of, but the deed didn't actually show a house. Was it just property? That would mean staying in a tent again.

As enticing as a seaside cottage on the Mediterranean sounded, he also had to think constant vigilance. Alaska it is. Or that was his plan for now. He had some time before he had to decide for sure. He had to figure out how to get to France first.

Harry Potter

Wizard (Level 1)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Charisma: 10

Feat(s): Alert

Skills Proficiencies: Arcana, Deception, History, Insight, Investigation

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue, Goblin

Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation

Level 1 Spells: Charm Person, Disguise Self, Identify, Shield, Sleep, Unseen Servant

Chapter 5: Travel

Chapter Text

As he sat in his room going through the rest of the legal documents looking for anything that might jump out as a major surprise (generally bad), Harry realized he didn't know how to get to France.

Well, sure, go south, but there was a pesky channel in the way. The Chunnel wasn't built yet. He didn't have a passport. He didn't have a wand to magic up a passport. Apparition was theoretically possible. He hadn't tried it since he had come back for fear of alerting the ministry. Would it alert the ministry? He had performed accidental magic as a child and ended up on top of the school, and no one had shown up.

There was a big difference between moving 50 feet on top of a school and moving 20 miles across the channel, however. If he missed it would be bad; he was never much of a swimmer, gillyweed notwithstanding. Maybe he should buy some gillyweed as a backup.

Maybe that was a better plan anyway. Apparate close to France, but not into the country. For all he knew, the French authorities would care if he, a child, suddenly apparated into their country. He could aim for a couple miles from shore, take gillyweed, and swim the rest of the way.

He could go to the Dover Strait to see where he was aiming. This was maybe a workable plan. If he could put his new Deception skill to work. People would be curious about an 8-year-old on the bus by himself.

Ever since he returned, he had started making more and more convoluted plans. He would need to figure out why that was. For now, it was low on the list of priorities. As long as his plan were effective, that's all that mattered.

It would be nice if he didn't need to make plans at all, but there was no way he was staying on Privet Drive for the next three years. He had no desire to willingly subject himself to the abuse, for that was what it was. It took him a long time to admit that to himself. He always knew it wasn't normal to stay in a damned cupboard or have only the youngest member of the family do the most housework. Not to mention all the emotional abuse. Who tells their nephew / ward that his parents were drunks when it was untrue? Even if it was true, why would you tell a child that? Maybe when they're older, but not a child.

No, he wouldn't stay with the Dursleys. He needed time to practice his new magic anyway. He doubted weeding the garden would yield much XP. After what happened on the horcrux hunt with Ron, Harry knew the headmaster had at least one method to track him. He had left the damned deluminator to Ron for that specific reason. He hoped it wouldn't work outside of Britain. It might make it to France. There was no way it would point to fucking America.

With his path reaffirmed in his mind, and no giant red flags jumping out at him in his paperwork, he mentally planned for his trip.

Staring at the Strait of Dover in the early morning light was a new experience for Harry. He had never had much chance to travel in his other life, or at least the one that he could remember. Sure, he, Ron, and Hermione had apparated around Britain, living in a tent, but that didn't really lend itself to sight-seeing.

The water was beautiful. He could just make out the hazy lines that indicated France. He had his gillyweed in hand. This was actually pretty dangerous. He didn't have a specific destination in mind, just a vague idea of the ocean that he could kind of see. The chance of splinching definitely existed. He refocused his thoughts on what he wanted to do, where he wanted to be, and turned decisively as he disappeared with a crack.

He didn't account for the height difference. He wasn't too far off, but enough that he fell almost 30 ft. into the ocean. He landed on his side. All of the air in his lungs was forced out, and he started to panic and drown. Oh yes, this was going splendidly.

He remembered nearly drowning in the black lake during the second task. He had run out of time, but was still far below the surface that was terrifying. If only his gillyweed had held out a few minutes more. Ah.

Yes, gillyweed.

He had somehow managed to hold onto it during the thrashing. He shoved it in his mouth and felt the burning as gills formed on his neck. Well, that was exciting. More evidence that the quests were not going to be free experience.

An hour later the gillyweed was wearing off and he still hadn't made it to shore. That was probably for the best. Wouldn't want to swim up the beach with gills. It might breach the Statute of Secrecy. He still had about 15 minutes of swimming before he was close enough to walk up to the beach. He was fairly proud of his ability to judge the distance of the apparition. He would conveniently forget about the height incident.

It was still early enough that there were only a few people on the shore. Considering there was a child walking out of the ocean in trousers and oxford shirt with a backpack, that was probably for the best. It also meant that there were no French aurors sitting in wait to arrest him. All in all, not a horrible job smuggling himself into another country.

The French train ticketing agent was surprisingly helpful. She thought he was on a grande aventure. Of course, she was about a 100, so she probably thought so long as there were no German tanks rolling down the A1, it was reasonably safe.

The book on magical districts he had bought when he got the gillyweed said there wasn't much of a community in Calais. He had some concerns about getting to Paris and was willing to risk the apparition. He still could DISGUISE SELF in a pinch to hide from any pesky investigators.

Fortunately, old Aliénor sold him a ticket with little fuss. Harry wondered if she was considering adopting him.

"Harry"

That was probably a bad sign. He had hadn't heard (or well, seen, really) anything from his HUD for a few days now, now since the Leaky Cauldron.

He had just entered the Paris magical quarter, Rue Magique, very creative naming, after blowing one of his two spells for the day on DISGUISE SELF. He wasn't really limited to two spells. He wasn't using spell slots. But, he was eight. His magical endurance left a lot to be desired. He was annoyed. He was on a deadline here.

"Yes, Max?"

"First, let me say that I think you are doing very well. I want to assure you that the bosses are not trying to subvert your freewill…"

Harry tried very hard not to roll his eyes. That kind of warning should come with its own warning.

"We're just offering some advice. The Acajor shop is much like the British Olivander's: everyone goes there. It is very standardized. …They get subsidies from the French Ministry..."

Shit.

"So, you can of course go there, and your plan of moving to America afterwards will work to hide yourself from the trace, however there is a chance the proprietor will require you to remove your DISGUISE SELF before selling you a wand. It's not guaranteed. They might not see through it. But they might. Wandmakers are weird. DISGUISE SELF is not a standard wand-glamour, but it's a risk. There is another shop that is less reputable, though the quality is just fine."

That seemed just fine to Harry as well. He asked for and received directions to the little herb shop who apparently would make him a wand if he asked. Not shady at all.

Paulo's Poultices smelled like patchouli. Herb shop indeed. 'Paulo' reminded Harry greatly of Mundungus Fletcher, at least in appearance. Short and squat, unshaven, beady eyes. Paulo didn't bother greeting him as he entered.

Harry looked around the shop to try to gauge if all his plans would come crashing down in this glorified market-stall, tucked behind the sign for a fertilizer store. The patchouli was strong enough to block the smell of the dragon dung.

Finally acknowledging Paulo-Mundungus, "I need a wand."

Paulo just seemed confused. "This an herb shop. You want to buy some basil or mint?"

"No. I want to buy a wand."

"Acajor's down the street two blocks west."

"Are you saying you can't make wands?" Harry wondered if he was supposed to use some code-phrase or something.

"No. I'm saying Acajor's is a wand shop. You're looking to buy a wand. Q.E.D."

Harry was sure he was missing something at this point. Stupid Max. "Acajor gets a subsidy from the ministry. I want a wand that is not reported."

Apparently, Paulo had been holding his breath this whole time because a fairly large plume of smoke came out of his mouth. "Look friend, I only make wands as a hobby. Give them to friends for birthdays and the like. I try to guess what will work for them. It's all just a bit of fun."

Harry's Insight skill was niggling at the back of his head. It seemed like Paulo was a little nervous, but not to get arrested himself. Did he think Harry was doing something illegal? "Let me lay my cards down here. I'm leaving the country. I need a wand to go with me. I'm not a convict or anything. They just won't sell me a wand."

The clearly not sober shopkeeper started looking at him funny. "Come in the back room." And he got up himself and walked in the back.

Harry didn't have many options at this point. He could abandon this and try his luck with Acajor's or risk a strange stoner in a back room while he was unarmed. Gryffindor's charge ahead, and he followed the strange man into the back.

As soon as he got past the door into the storage area the door slammed shut, and Harry found himself facing an apparently very sobered Paulo, pointing a wand at him. "Drop your glamour."

He didn't leave much room for debate.

Allowing the magic from DISGUISE SELF to release, the now clearly 8-year-old Harry Potter held his breath.

"Son of a whore, goddamn kid wants a wand. How the fuck you cast that glamour? Is this some auror set-up?"

"NO! No. Look, I can explain, please, just give me a minute. OK?"

Paulo did not lower his wand, but did nod, "better be damn good explanation."

And it was. Harry didn't mention being Harry Potter but did say that he had run away from his aunt and uncle because they were fucking asshole abusers. He had a place to go in America to stay that was safe, but he wanted a wand here and now to avoid the trace and help him get there. He was competent enough to use it.

Paulo had questions about that part but had more important things to worry about. "How did you know I make wands?"

"My friend Max told me. I swear I'm not an auror (well that's obvious of course), and I'm not trying to set you up or anything."

Paulo released the breath he had been holding and lowered the wand. There wasn't a plume of smoke this time, but it was obvious he had been scared out of his mind. Paranoid, one might say. "250 galleons."

"Fuck. Bit much. That's goblin robbery."

"You want me to illegally sell a wand to a kid and not put the trace on it. This is a fucking herb shop."

"Ok, ok. 250."

"Fine." Paulo went to the workstation in the back of the room and pulled out some parchment. "Push your magic into this parchment."

"You wot mate?"

Paulo was not impressed with Harry's attitude. "Look kid, I need a feel for your magic to figure out what to make so it will work for you. I assume you want something compatible?"

"Yeah. I just never heard of something like this before,"

That got the wandmaker-herb salesman to roll his eyes. "Buy a lot of custom wands, do you? How the hell do you expect the process to work?"

"I thought I would pick out a wood and a core and then you would make it from that."

"All of my supplies are at home. Need I remind you that this is an herb shop. I'll take this back and work something out. Now push your magic into this parchment and come back in two days."

Harry spent the next two days looking up cruise ships. He figured that was the easiest way to sneak to America. Sure, it might take weeks to get there, but it had to be easier to hide on a giant ship than in an airplane. Once he got out to sea, he would be in international waters, and out of the jurisdiction of just about any country's (France or Britain) auror force to monitor for underage magic.

Was that overly paranoid? He was going to have a traceless wand after all. Maybe, but Mad-Eye would approve.

The two days wait turned out to not matter for his travel plans. He still had a 9 day wait before the next cruise ship left on the Seine. That was actually pretty good. The next ship after that was a month after. Unless he wanted to go to Abu Dhabi or New Zealand. No, nine days to get a ship headed to America, before it headed down to the Caribbean.

"Maple and Dragon Heartstring. You'll probably outgrow this when you get older, but it should work well now."

Harry gave him a dubious look but picked it up anyway. He felt a warmth, a rush. It wasn't as strong as his holly-and-phoenix feather, but it still felt really good. "Why do you think I'll outgrow it? And why not give me a wand that will work forever?"

"Look, do you want a wand that will be good for you 20 years from now, or a wand that works now? Maple and dragon is a wand of growth. Learning, exploring, traveling, new experiences. You're 8. You got a lot of growing to do. You've also told me you're going off to the U.S. This wand will work well for you now. Kids grow and learn a lot faster than adults. Adults tend to settle down, they get in routines. They stagnate. This wand will hate that. Even in your late teens that might happen. Who knows. So yes, you could very well outgrow this wand in that it will be slightly less effective as you get older."

Harry didn't want to reinforce his smugness by mentioning all the quests he was engaging in for XP. That would also make him look crazy. "Fine."

"You never got that from me."

"Agreed."

"You want some herbs to go, too?"

Harry took his new wand and left the store. It did feel pretty good. He could make this work. He now had a week and a bit to wait for his cruise.

Quest Complete: Get a wand!

55 XP.

Nice.

He was debating buying an actual ticket or maybe two tickets for the cruise. Then he wouldn't have to confundus charm the staff all the time. That surely wouldn't be good for their wellbeing.

He had a wand now, so he wouldn't have to rely on DISGUISE SELF. Glamour charms should work fine against the muggles. He could save the DISGUISE SELF for any magicals he ran into. They couldn't seem to detect it. Except for Paulo. Max did say that might happen because wandmakers are weird.

If he was going to be an actual paying patron, he would need some supplies. Most notably a passport. He could transfigure one now with a wand. Should he make a French passport to blend in or an English passport, so they are less likely to notice any inconsistencies?

Whichever, he would need luggage and supplies. People didn't just show up to cruises with no stuff.

In addition to muggle luggage and clothing, he wanted to get some magical supplies. Particularly, a tent. That was his plan for the next couple of years at least. He would live on his family property in the tent and hopefully not freeze to death. Alaska was cold.

Lots of shopping to do, but he had a week.

Harry stood in his cabin aboard the La Belle Vie watching out the window (port hole?) as they departed Paris. The week had gone incredibly quickly. The passport question was answered by the fact that he didn't know what a French passport even looked like. The cruise wasn't full, so he was able to purchase, under glamour, a single cabin for the New York leg. He considered the luxury cabin, but no need to draw attention to himself.

Quest Complete: Get out of the country!

110 XP

Hold on! "I thought the quest was to get to France, Max. Why did it change to leaving France?"

"Actually, it was to get out of Britain. This still sort of applies… We're still working the bugs out Harry. Please bear with us. This is literally the first time in all of creation that we've done something like this."

"Oh, it's not a problem, I was just curious, thanks Max. Oh wait, is that why the XP changed as well? They used to be round numbers."

"That my friend, is a benefit of your new wand! It's a learning wand, so you are getting a bonus to XP. And I did not put the stoner up to it either. He made that wand all on his own. I just absolutely took advantage of it to give you a gear bonus. Always try to CHEAT, Harry. Oh, and don't expect to be able to just ask for the answer all the time either. We're giving you this as freebee because we changed the quests a bit. In the future, you should know you already have the tools to identify the answers to questions like these."

LEVEL UP! You have enough experience to advance to level 2!

Leveling up was exciting, but he was stuck on thinking about Max's last statement. Clearly they wanted him to use the IDENTIFY spell in the future on things like the wand. That was a fine sentiment, but he didn't think that Max and his boss's were as clever as they thought they were. That clue was as clear as… well maybe they just thought Harry was stupid. Based on his previous lives, that might not even be a bad conclusion. But he was an INT character now!

LEVEL UP. Please select an Arcane Tradition:

School of Abjuration

School of Conjuration

School of Divination

School of Enchantment

School of Evocation

School of Illusion

School of Transmutation

That was a lot of options. Max really wanted to push him for Divination, which admittedly was very powerful. On the other side, it was Divination. If Trelawney ever found out he would… well something. He would do something. Fuck Trelawney and her shit prophecies and her shittier class.

Transmutation looked useful for making money if he never stayed in the same place. It was basically temporary alchemy. He would just have to leave town because the emphasis was on the temporary.

Conjuration could be really useful living in a tent in Alaska. The items you could conjure may be temporary, but you never know when you need a hand tool just right now. Of course, he had a wand now. He could conjure a bit reasonably well. He wasn't a pro at transfiguration, but no slouch either. Maybe that was something he could just work on.

Really, divination was the best option. If Max hadn't made him promise to at least consider it, he would have went with evocation or something just to move on. It wasn't useless after all. It could help in a hostage situation. No he was just trying to talk himself out of divination now.

Reluctantly, it was chosen, and now he had to choose more spells. He had passed on Comprehend Languages before. There was no way he was missing out again. He probably should pick another way to attack as well, remembering how much he struggled against the wolf.

It was time to settle in for a quiet cruise across the Atlantic.

Harry Potter

Divination Wizard (Level 2)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Charisma: 10

Feat(s): Alert

Skills Proficiencies: Arcana, Deception, History, Insight, Investigation

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue, Goblin

Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation

Level 1 Spells: Charm Person, Disguise Self, Identify, Shield, Sleep, Unseen Servant, Chromatic Orb, Comprehend Languages

Chapter 6: Revelations

Chapter Text

Harry had a week on board the La Belle Vie with very little to do. He would cast DISGUISE SELF three times a day to eat a meal out of his cabin, but for the most part, he was left bored. Bored and thinking.

He had many questions. Particularly about his own actions.

Why hadn't he just bought a broomstick and flown over the Channel? Sure, he would have had to take it on the bus from London, but was it really violating the Statute of Secrecy? He was already a weird kid traveling alone. Why not be a weird kid with a broom? He could have said it was his mum's or something and he didn't have anything else of hers, and he just really couldn't let it go. weepy eyes. No one would pay that much attention to it.

Why wasn't he currently trying to break Sirius out of Azkaban? Or at least capturing Pettigrew?

Why was he so singularly focused on getting out of Brittain? Dumbledore wasn't evil. He wasn't running for his life. Was this just PTSD from the Horcrux hunt that he needed to go into hiding? Sure, old Albus would probably try to make him go back to the Dursley's, but he could just burn their house down.

Wait. What?

What the fuck is wrong with his mind? "MAX!"

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry explained everything he had been thinking though for the last few days.

"That is an interesting question of your mind. It's possible that dying, and truly understanding what happened has caused you a psychotic break," Harry started screaming. "It's also possible that the removal of the Horcrux in your scar when you were reinserted in the timeline caused some sort of damage," More screaming. "The HUD itself, could also be affecting you, leading you into more game-like mindsets, AKA sociopathy."

After that conversation, Harry decided to just sleep and not think for a day or more.

Later Max sent Harry a message saying that they were sorry for possibly causing irregularities with his thinking processes. That this was all new and experimental. In order to make up for it, future quests would have better rewards.

Harry hoped for a magic sword.

Despite the existential crises, the cruise to New York passed uneventfully, and Harry was soon presenting his conjured passport to immigration.

Stepping past the immigration officers into America resulted in several new quests popping up. Dozens of quests. Most of them were outside of his current personal goal, which was just to reach his family land. But he had a magical tent. He could theoretically do some quests on the way, right? He couldn't do them all, as there were a few that contradicted each other:

Reach Your Family Land in 24 Hours or Less:

100 XP; Unique Reward

That one quest would probably nullify completing many of the others. Unless he reached his land to get the reward, then left immediately after to go do other things. A unique reward was so enticing. But Middle-Of-Nowhere-Alaska was so far away. He was already sick of traveling.

It would probably still make it difficult to complete some of the quests that were literally rescue missions.

Save the Freshwater Plimpies!

100 XP

Ah, Luna. Focus. Any type of saving was probably time sensitive, wasn't it? Maybe? Maybe not? It's not like a human hostage situation where the captives might be moved, right? Or was it?

There were so many decisions. He was starting to get overwhelmed. He needed to keep it simple. He would go straight to his family land.

He had been so excited when he learned of its existence. Apparently his grandfather was a potions master, and there were some unique ingredients that grew in the area. Harry wasn't that interested in the potions side of things, but it was family land.

Yes, he was going to Alaska. Time to find out what a unique reward might look like.

Fourteen hours by plane to get to Fairbanks including layovers in Seattle and Anchorage, and six confundus charms later, he was negotiating to buy an old quad to ride the rest of the way to his land. Once he's been there, he would be able to apparate. At least from Fairbanks. He didn't know what kind of range he had on apparition as an 8-year-old. He also didn't know (no that he knew he didn't know) just how big Alaska was. But Apparition was his plan. Maybe an illegal portkey.

Four hours on the barely functioning four-wheeler and Harry was getting tired. He hadn't been able to sleep much on the planes, and he was running low on time to reach his land before the quest time ran out.

He was close though. He was traveling through a heavily wooded area, so he couldn't travel fast, but at least the sound of the machine should scare the bears away, right?

Finally, the trees broke, and he saw a large stream. Based on the description, he was pretty sure that was the border of the acreage his grandfather Fleamont had bought before Alaska had even become a state. The paperwork he had included a muggle deed, so Harry had survey information as well. He would eventually be able to map out the borders of his land for sure.

For now, though, he was crossing the stream, and his HUD was updating:

Quest Complete: Reach Your Family Land in 24 Hours or Less!

110 XP Received. Unique Reward: You have gained proficiency in Portkeys.

Huh. That's kind of a cool idea for a reward, Harry thought. Also, probably useful. He would have to think about the implications when he had had time to rest. He needed to set up his tent and sleep.

So of course, that's when the wolves showed up. Yes. Two of them this time.

"I really don't want to reset back to the Dursley's."

SLEEP

Only one fell asleep. FUCK.

The second wolf was on him almost immediately. Before he knew it, blinding pain shot through his arm as the wolf bit down.

Time for something new. Time for some good fucking luck for once. Thinking only Fire:

CHROMATIC ORB

Finally, something went right. The burst of fire hit the wolf directly in the face and was immolated almost immediately. Harry was doing his best not to scream. He was moving out to the max distance of the CHROMATIC ORB spell. He did not want to be bitten again.

90 feet away. Thinking Fire

CHROMATIC ORB

It was going to miss. His injury from the bite had thrown off his aim.

No.

Not like this. NOT LIKE THIS.

Reality itself bent to his will. Or that's what it felt like to him. He had reached out with sheer willpower, controlling the Portents of the future. The spell shifted. The wolf was immolated. Harry passed out from the pain.

110 XP gained!

Harry woke after dark, wondering why he hadn't remembered to use his fucking wand. Two quick reductos would have made short work of them. Also, he had freaked out about missing the wolf that was asleep. Missing a spell wasn't going to wake it, so why was he so upset that bent reality to his will? Was he now terrified of dying again? Was he just a moron?

What the fuck was wrong with his thought processes?

"Max."

"We've done a complete a diagnostic on the HUD while you were passed out, Harry. There should be no reason why it specifically is affecting your emotions or rational thought processes this way."

"So, you think it's the dying thing? That I'm in some sort of PTSD haze?"

"That, and/or we have one other theory. You are eight years old, Harry."

"No, I'm seventeen. This body is eight."

"Yes, precisely. This body, which has a physical brain that is still developing, a prefrontal cortex that is not that of an adult, glands that are producing differing levels of hormones, and an amygdala that is still learning to regulate emotions."

"Fuck."

"Yep. But, it Will get better over time. It's called growing up."

"Fuck you Max."

The sound of Max's creepy serial killer laughter was not actually heard, since Harry was just reading text from him in a HUD, but Harry still heard it in his mind.

Harry was returning to his family land, which he had taken to calling Terra Messis, for the first time in six months. It was spring…ish. He had a lot to accomplish if he as going to spend the next winter here.

He was going to need to build a more permanent structure. He needed to stock food, canned and preserved. He would need tools. He was going to be doing a lot of lot of transfiguration.

It was lucky the townsfolk back in Fairbanks were a kind sort. When he had recovered from fighting the wolves at Terra Messis the last year, he realized he didn't have much in the way of supplies. He spent the night in his tent but had no food. It seemed so obvious now that he realized. More holes in his thinking.

Going back to town under glamour, he was attempting to buy some canned goods when a friendly patron noticed his accent and meagre shopping and became quite suspicious. Everyone in town knew he was new in the area.

"You weren't planning on staying out on your plot long, were you?"

Harry was immediately on guard. "A couple of years, why?"

The older gent stared at him dumbfounded for quite a while until he snapped to. He then kindly explained the reality of Alaska to Harry. About winter. Supplies. The type of preparation needed. How it was already late in the season. How Harry was going to get himself killed. He was kind, but not indirect.

Harry was not stupid; he was an INT character, now, after all. He quickly thanked the man and said he would go back to the continent for the winter and do some proper research before returning next spring.

Harry proceeded to spend the winter in the lower 48, doing quests, and mostly living in his tent at campgrounds. He spent his evenings researching Alaskan survival and the effort involved. By January, Harry was considering going back to Europe to try for Greece due to the enormity of the work ahead of him.

He had chosen Alaska for a reason though: the remote nature. He could do this. He would do this. He would just spend the next several months working on the seemingly endless quests that his HUD would send him.

Saving The Plimpies had awarded him the spell SPEAK TO ANIMALS. Learning spells as quest rewards was Max and the team's solution to spell scrolls. Lots of quests had given him a special reward. Some were just XP, but that was fine as well. He managed to hit level 3 and make progress into 4. It should have been more, but apparently using his wand to kill all the beasties didn't award him XP, just the quest completion rewards. It was enough for now.

He had managed some other small projects to help him in the long run as well. He had channeled his inner-Hermione and made a To-Do list. He knew his brain was full of holes and he kept forgetting things, so he started writing them down as he thought of them. More than once he had woken up to realize he added something to his list that he had completely forgotten that he had written.

He set up a mail forwarding service with a mail owl service in Boston (this was America, so they weren't post owls, but mail owls). This way he could send letters to Britain and the closest they might be able to track him would be the east coast. He bought his own owl before he headed back to Terra Messis (another checklist item that he would have forgotten).

His owl would have to cross the entirety of North America so he purchases a great horned owl, which wouldn't look out of place in Alaska or Canada. He named it Fred. He tried not to feel guilty about Hedwig.

He started adding letters to his To-Do list. Very specific letters to be written at specific times. It was the best he could do to try to help people from afar. Luna's mom, for example. He planned to write to Hermione after her 11th birthday to try to convince her to go to Beauxbatons. Harry wouldn't be there to deal with the troll. He didn't know if it would work, sending it anonymously, but he hoped.

He knew she had a hard time as a child with no friends. A pen pal would probably do wonders for her, but her parents would undoubtedly be very suspicious of their 9-year-old daughter receiving anonymous letters regularly. Rightfully so in most cases.

He was still considering it.

He had already sent his first letter back to Brittain: a quite long missive to one Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. He couldn't say he time traveled of course, so he said he sometimes Saw things. He explained about Sirius. He explained about Pettigrew. He didn't think it would work. She could verify some facts by talking to Arthur about the family rat.

It was the best he could do, short of going to Ottery St. Catchpole and catching Pettigrew himself.

She would probably still have an uphill battle trying to get that through the Wizengamot, but at least someone knew the truth.

Harry was currently working on building a small log cabin. Originally, he wanted to transfigure some trees into stone to build a stone cottage, but had wisely bought a book on magical construction in Idaho.

The transfigurations would not last. They might last a month or two, if he was exceptionally powerful (he was), but that was nowhere near enough. He needed to carve runes on the stone afterwards to give them permanence. Harry had never studied runes, because of course he had taken fucking divination instead.

Something to work on for the future, he supposed. A long-term project to be added to the List. For now, a log cabin would be fine. It was going surprisingly well. Magic made things go much more smoothly in a lot of cases.

He was keeping it small for now… er cozy, not small. He could always add space expansion later. Fuck. That would take runes as well. There were charms for it, but they ran into the same problems as the transfigurations: non-permanence. He would have to move learning runes up on his priority list. He could start this winter. There wouldn't be a lot to do in the cabin except train and learn anyway.

"Harry."

That wasn't good. He hadn't heard directly from Max for months. "Yes, Max?"

"I was just wondering why you want to spend all winter holed up in this God-forsaken tundra? You were able to grow so much last winter. You were getting stronger. Now you are planning to laze around."

"Max, I need a fucking break. Need I remind you that I'm not even 9 years old? That I've been basically going non-stop since I was resurrected nearly a year ago? Besides, I'm going to be focusing on practicing my wand magic, so I'll still be growing."

"Fair enough, Harry. As long as you are still planning and/or growing stronger."

Harry did his best to ignore the thinly veiled divine pushing and tried to pretend he still had free will.

Winter was boring. He would not be telling Max he was right, but Harry didn't feel like he made nearly as much progress as questing. It made absolute sense of course, but he did want to keep up with his wand work.

He made some progress on learning runes. He could probably take an OWL and pass. He wasn't sure if that was good progress or not when he spent all winter learning basically nothing but runes. But he didn't have a professor to answer questions. He didn't have additional reference material to compare. He had the basic books and his proficiency in Arcana.

He broke down and wrote a letter to Hermione. It was mainly out of boredom. He tried his best to make it sound not creepy, but who knows how well he did. He hadn't figured out how to let her respond yet.

He wrote he had dreams about a past life and a woman named Hermione from England so he found the first Hermione in England he could and wrote a letter. It was even mostly true. He tried to write like a 9-year-old would write. His shitty handwriting itself helped.

He didn't put anything weird about magic or wanting to be her secret friend or anything. He just talked about kid stuff: liking Lord of the Rings, why fractions were evil, the sort of things he could remember from being 9. He explained that he understood that her parents probably wouldn't want her to be his friend since it was weird to receive a letter from a stranger from America. Or at least, that's what his guardian 'Max' told him. A little white lie. He signed it Jamie Evans.

He would have to think about a way for her to write back. Probably a PO box in Boston. He was hesitant to do a lot of Portkeying around MACUSA territory, but it wouldn't be often, or in any sort of pattern. They were technically legal, sort of, if you squint at it, since Alaska was outside their jurisdiction (not that they would admit that), but he didn't want to press his luck.

Maybe he could use the US Postal Service's own forwarding service to forward from his PO box to the Owl forwarding. Maybe. That would be another deal with them that would probably cost a lot of money. They were amused at his first request to send things to England; they would be suspicious of asking for a reverse. Maybe a different Owl service might be better for return post.

He received his first reply a few months later. She agreed that it was weird, but she had never had a pen-pal before. She went on to explain how her parents debated the issue before allowing her to write back. She gave him fair warning that her parents would be reading all his letters before she was allowed to see them. Harry thought that was great parenting.

Her handwriting was impeccable. He told her so in his response, though he didn't say impeccable. That was a dead giveaway that he was not actually 9. He said it was very tidy compared to his chicken scratch. He said that he would try to write neater for her in the future.

Hermione had shared his enthusiasm for Lord of the Rings and asked what else he read. She listed a small library's worth of her favorites. Harry responded favorably towards Lewis and Narnia. He also talked about how he was learning to can things. Another small white lie as he had already done so, but it was something that he knew she would be interested in. Anything that involved learning something new.

Her second letter came much more quickly. They soon got into a routine and Harry would receive a letter approximately once a month. Hermione would often ask about his dreams and he would write about stories from his past life that sounded like nothing more than fanciful nonsense. He was slowly hinting at the idea of magic. Eventually Hermione hinted that she had on occasion experienced something she couldn't explain. Neither would come out and say it, but the groundwork was there.

When spring came, Harry started preparing for the winter. He wasn't sure if he would spend the whole winter in his cabin again, or go down to the lower 48 for questing, but he wanted to be prepared for either. Maybe he would do some mix. He had a portkey.

Preparations went much faster this year. Of course, he didn't have to build an entire cabin this year. He used his extra time to try to start a garden for vegetables and he also started collecting potion ingredients.

Potions ingredients were the main reason Fleamont Potter had bought this acreage so he might as well collect the stuff. He was no potioneer himself, but maybe he could sell it. It could be preserved for a while no matter what he decided, and if he didn't collect it, it would just die in the winter.

By the time summer started winding down, he had decided to make an effort on questing. If he needed a break, he could always portkey home, but he was still currently stuck on level 3. That was just not on.

The only real character progress he had made was from his birthday. His HUD had declared that he had spent over a year surviving in the Alaskan wilderness and he had been awarded the Survival skill proficiency.

While that was terrific, he needed to level up. And some of the quests had very juicy rewards. The one occupying his thoughts currently awarded a free feat. A feat! That was surely going to be life-threateningly difficult, but a feat was such a good reward. His only internal debate on the topic was whether he should go straight for it or wait till he leveled up to 4 before he attempted it.

Either way, he was excited to try.

Harry Potter

Divination Wizard (Level 3)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Charisma: 10

Feat(s): Alert

Skills Proficiencies: Arcana, Deception, History, Insight, Investigation, Survival, Land Vehicles,

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue, Goblin,

Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Friends, Mending

Level 1 Spells: Charm Person, Disguise Self, Identify, Shield, Sleep, Unseen Servant, Chromatic Orb, Comprehend Languages, Speak with Animals, Detect Magic

Level 2 Spells: Hold Person, Invisibility

Chapter 7: The Olde Country

Chapter Text

While Harry was running down a beach, trying to desperately flee from the Bandon Banshee (Bandon Oregon, not Ireland), there were many things going on back in merry olde Magical Britain.

Amelia Bones, Director, Department of Magical Law Enforcement was preparing herself for a fight. A supposed re-trial for notorious murderer and death eater Sirius Black was not going to go over well. She just needed to step through the various legal traps to not have the case thrown out immediately. Once the Wizengamot understood that there had never been an initial trial, she thought she had a better chance.

She had spent the last year calling in favors and building a small, but formidable coalition to push this through since she received the anonymous letter outlining the facts of the case. Her first thoughts on receiving the letter was that it was bunk, however it was easy enough to confirm some basic facts.

Arthur Weasley worked on the same floor. Casual conversations about his children were enough to draw out the fact that they had some time ago acquired a pet rat. She didn't push further yet. No need to put his family on edge for what was probably just a rat.

To further build evidence, she had set two trainees the task of reviewing and summarizing all of the trials from 1981 as a way of learning about the trial process and the more administrative side of being an auror. When their summaries didn't include anything about a trial for Sirius Black, her internal alarm bells started going off.

Nearly a year later, she was waiting in the courtroom to present the case. She didn't have any personal feelings for the man, but everyone deserved a fair chance. The thought of anyone being wrongfully imprisoned for almost a decade in Azkaban of all places gave her nightmares. If Bellatrix fucking Lestrange got a trial, then Sirius Black would get one too.

Albus Dumbledore, for all of his titles, (Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the WIzengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer) still bled like any other man.

He was sitting in the infirmary waiting for Madam Pomphrey to fix his newly re-broken nose. There was a fair amount of blood dripping onto his sapphire robes with blazing suns embroidered along the arms.

The cause of his broken nose (at least this time) was one newly freed Sirius Black. Sirius did not break his nose for believing him guilty or supporting the idea of his illegal incarceration. Though he would deserve it just the same. Sirius Black did not even break Albus's nose because Harry Potter was missing. After all, who could blame Harry for running away from that environment.

No, the reason Sirius broke his nose was because he placed Harry at the Dursley home at all. Or at least, that's what Sirius claimed. In truth of fact, it was probably a combination of all of those things, but nearly 7 years of abuse is a strong enough reason on its own.

"Did you quarrel with Aberforth again, Albus?" Poppy Pomphrey didn't mince words.

"No, my dear. This is the result of someone else I've wronged."

Poppy rolled her eyes. Albus was as human as the rest of the staff, and he had no problem shouldering blame as well as responsibility. He was far too forgiving. He might have deserved a pop in the nose, but that didn't mean people should actually do it.

She would love to be able to be gentle, Albus was an old man after all, but fixing a broken bone involved a quick snap to repair the bone the same way it was broken. Quick, but definitely not painless.

"At least you came to me this time, instead of trying to fix it yourself. Merlin knows it's easier this way than repairing your own attempts. You are a brilliant man, Albus, but a healer you are not."

"It's possible I learned my lesson after you gave me Skele-Gro last time." Albus was smiling, in fairly good cheer considering the pain he must have just endured.

Five minutes later Albus was on his way back to his office, Poppy's dire warnings of leaving him with an even more crooked nose still ringing in his ear.

He hoped that Sirius would see past this bump in the road after a bit of time to cool off. Albus had a year's worth of notes on Harry Potter's disappearance that he would be glad to share with the man. Albus spent weeks every summer investigating possible leads. Sirius would have all of his time free to search for young Harry.

Albus knew he was alive. He had several devices monitoring Harry. The tracker didn't seem to be working, which probably meant that he was overseas. The range of the device he personally crafted did not reach beyond the island.

It was a daunting prospect, thinking of the entirety of the world. He had made discreet inquiries with his contacts at the ICW. Many people were happy to help Albus for past favors, or just because he was a good man. He sometimes doubted that idea himself, but others told him that he was.

The inquiries did have to be discreet though. Currently the only other people that knew that Harry was missing were the Dursley's and now Sirius Black. If the greater population of Magical Britain found out, there would be quite a backlash. That meant he had a little less than a year to try to find him, or rather hopefully, for Sirius to find him.

He didn't have much hope. He had a few leads that he hadn't had time to investigate this past summer, and then there was the Hogwarts letter itself. That could potentially lead them to Harry. He had of course tried a normal post-owl message with tracking charms, but the owls would just get confused and return, letters undelivered. More evidence that Harry was overseas, probably quite far.

The Hogwarts letter, though, had its own magic. There were examples throughout history of the owls that carried Hogwarts acceptance letters delivering to the other side of the world. It didn't happen often, but a child born in Britain would still receive a letter even if the parents had emigrated somewhere else. He had never had cause to investigate why the owls could do that, but he suspected the letters were infused with the magic of Hogwarts herself, and the owls could draw on that power somehow.

That was his last resort. If that failed, he would have to tell the rest of Magical Britain that the child that had saved them all was missing. He wondered if he should accept all of the blame for it. The Dursley's were not good people. He should never have left Harry there, or at least, he should have checked on him at least once.

But he hadn't. Now he would reap what he had sown.

Of course, he could cover it up if he wanted to. He could memory charm the Dursley's to forget that Harry existed, and then give them strong compulsion charms to leave the country and never return. It would be beyond unethical, illegal in fact, but he could then claim he left Harry with his only blood relatives and they had chosen to leave the country with Harry. Actually, he would have to have the memory charm show that they left with Harry and then he ran away when they got to their destination (Singapore, maybe?). Yes, that most likely minimize the fallout on him politically.

He sighed. He knew he shouldn't think such thoughts. It was just a game, a mind exercise really, he and Gellert would play to plan how to get away with things when their plans went awry.

He really hoped Sirius would calm down enough to talk to him soon.

Hermione Granger was laying on her bed re-reading her Hogwarts acceptance letter for the umpteenth time. She couldn't believe it. Her, a witch! Actually, she could believe it, because she and Jaime had talked about strange things that happened around both of them. Jaime had to be a witch, too!

It was so exciting. If only Jaime lived in England, they could go to Hogwarts together. They could share a dorm and be best friends. Mum thought Jaime sounded like a boy, especially with the horrid handwriting, but Hermione reminded her that Jaime was American so they probably all had horrid penmanship.

She supposed that Mum could be right. Jaime had never said anything about it, and she never talked about clothes or makeup or anything. On the other hand, she and her guardian Max lived like some sort of nomads or something. Jaime was always learning skills to live off the land like canning or fishing without a fishing pole. And they traveled all over America! Jaime's summer letters came from different states every month. The winter ones usually came from Alaska, which also explained the pioneering skills.

Yes, she was certain Jaime was a witch (or a wizard… magical), but Americans wouldn't go to school in Scotland. They surely had their own school. She didn't manage to ask Professor McGonagall when she introduced her and her parents to the concept of the magical world. The Professor had left several pamphlets and instructed them to write down any questions they might have when she returned the next weekend to take them to the magical shopping district. She couldn't wait to get to the bookstore! But one of her questions was about Jaime, and if she would go to school in the United States and if she could come to Hogwarts.

Harry was in a convenience store bathroom with a tiny pack of gauze trying to give himself first aid when he remembered it was Hermione's birthday.

Stupid fucking banshees. Definitely should have waited till level 4. Maybe 5. Fuck. That bitch hit hard. Thank god for Silencio. He wouldn't get the combat XP (again), but better to get the quest XP and live than die trying to be clever. And he earned a feat!

Hermione though. She should have her letter by now. Maybe he would surprise her. It was her birthday after all.

"HERMIONE."

Hermione's head snapped up. Her mother usually didn't yell. She almost never yelled. It wasn't an angry yell though. Maybe her and Daddy had some more concerns they wanted to bring up.

Whatever the cause, she rushed downstairs to see her mother smirking with her eyes practically twinkling. "Phone for you, dear."

"Phone? For me? Who on earth is calling me?"

"Why don't you talk to them and find out?" Mrs. Granger was clearly amused. Hermione would have to find out why later. The idea that someone had called her was too exciting to wait. She was very secretly and very desperately hoping it was Jaime.

That would most definitely not be the case as she had sent Jaime her phone number almost a year ago (with her parent's reluctant permission). Jaime had responded via letter stating that she and Max did not have a telephone. That's when Jaime had explained the survivalist lifestyle they lived.

"Hello, this is Hermione Granger."

"Hello, Hermione Granger, this is Jaime Evans."

Hermione was dumbfounded. There was no way it was Jaime. She didn't have a phone. And this was a BOY. Ugh. Mum was going to be impossible. The amusement on her mum's face was suddenly explained.

"I thought you were a girl." That was not what she meant to say, but she just blurted it out. All of her dreams of going to boarding school and sharing a room with her best friend Jaime were crashing down around her. They were always a long shot, but now they were dead.

Doctor and Doctor Granger, AKA Richard and Helen, AKA Mum and Daddy, were listening in on the other receiver in the kitchen. They wanted to give their daughter some sense of privacy, but this was an unknown entity, even if obviously a young boy by the sound of his voice. Her mother was struggling not to laugh hysterically at her daughter's outburst.

Jaime just laughed. "Why would you think that? Jaime is a perfectly fine boy's name."

Hermione just spluttered some sort of incoherent non-response. Neither the good Doctors, nor Harry had ever heard Hermione so flustered.

"I thought you didn't have a phone."

"I don't. I borrowed this one just for today. It's a special day after all." Harry was speaking softly to try to keep himself calm. He definitely missed Hermione more than he thought. He didn't realize how much until he heard her voice. He was doing just fine on his own until this moment.

"What? What's today?" Hermione had her fingers crossed that Jaime was going to tell her that she…he... was a witc… wizard, and that they were both magic and he had received a letter to Hogwarts so even if they didn't get to room together, they could at least be in school together.

"It's your birthday of course. Happy Birthday Hermione! I wish I could get you a cake, but I think it might go stale by the time it made it to England."

Hermione was stunned. Her pen pal, and really her only friend, had gone to the trouble of getting access to a phone just to call her on her birthday. It was the sweetest thing she had ever heard. She started tearing up.

Mrs. Doctor Helen Granger was also losing the fight with her tear ducts. Her baby girl had always struggled with friendship, and here was her pen pal (who was a boy, she thought smugly) going out of his way just to call her on her birthday. Mrs. Granger desperately wished that Jaime was a witch too. It would be so good for Hermione.

Hermione sniffled into the phone, "Thank you Jaime. That's incredibly sweet. No need to send a cake, the call is a great present."

"You're welcome, Hermione. I didn't just call to wish you a happy birthday though," Hermione was instantly alert. Did he get a letter? "Did you happen to receive any odd mail recently? Any invitations to odd schools?"

Hermione squealed. Mrs. Granger had to hold the receiver away from her and her husband's ear. "You knew! You knew about magic!" It came out as an accusation. Hermione didn't want to admit it, but it hurt to know that her best friend hadn't told her.

"I couldn't say anything Hermine. If the school representatives have come and talked to you, then they had to have told you about the Statute of Secrecy, right? I couldn't just put it in a letter that magic exists. Besides, you never would have believed me."

Hermione grudgingly agreed with her. Him. Even hearing his voice, it was hard to switch in her brain to male; she had thought of him as Her for so long. "You're right Jaime, I'm sorry I accused you like that. But this is so exciting! You know! We can talk about it together. Did you get your letter as well? I assume its not from Hogwarts. What is the school in the US? Is it good? Will we learn the same things?"

"Easy, Hermione." Hermione's barrage of questions stopped instantly. She had so many questions to ask, but she was trying very hard not to drive her friend away.

"Sorry"

"It's fine. I just can't answer them all if I can't remember what all you asked. Let's see. I did NOT get a letter yet, as they come around your birthday. When I do get a letter, it will include information for the main American schools. There's Ilvermorny, which is kind of like Hogwarts as I understand it. There's Rocky Mountain Technical Magic School which is basically like a trade school for magic, Magical Construction, Agriculture, stuff like that. There's a small private school down in New Mexico which gets a lot of students from Mexico as well the southwest US. Oh, there's also the Salem Witches Institute, but I think it's more of a graduate school.

Hermione was stunned. And Jealous. Jaime had choices in his education. Hermione only got notified about Hogwarts. "Do you happen to know if there are other schools in Great Britain besides Hogwarts? I'm not saying I don't want to go there, but it would be nice to be able to choose."

"I'm sorry Hermione. I think Hogwarts is it for Britain. I've heard there is an Irish school. It's quite a bit smaller, but I don't know anything about it. The next closest big school would be Beauxbatons in France. I know you guys visit France, but you would have to be fluent to attend there. Though it might be worth it to learn the language for the school if you really want to go."

"Oh my gosh Jaime. How do you know all of this? Is there a book I can read about it?" Hermione was starting to get worked up. There were things that she didn't know that were going to impact her future. That was not on.

Harry was well versed in Hermione's emotional state. "Take it easy. There may be books. I don't know. I can look around a local shop here and see if I can find a survey of magical education or something."

The elder Grangers were starting to have some of the same concerns as their daughter. They didn't think of themselves as stuck up, but they did want what was best for Hermione. They knew she was brilliant, and if it wasn't for magic, she probably could easily get into a top public boarding school. With magic? Professor McGonagall didn't mention any other schools. That made sense. She worked for the local. She clearly wasn't going to promote some other school.

Hermione was still asking Jaime questions. "Which school are you going to Jaime? Ilvermorny? No, actually, I could see you going to the trade school, with your lifestyle. That would fit. Or would you consider going out of the country? Would you go to the French school? Actually, do you speak French? We've never talked about that. I do speak some, but I wouldn't say I'm fluent."

"Hermione," Harry hated to interrupt her. He knew she didn't have a ton of social interaction, so letting her get all of this out was important. "I probably won't go to any school."

"WHAT! Why not? What about learning about magic? Professor McGonagall told us if I didn't get training, they would bind my magic so I didn't hurt anyone. You HAVE to go to school."

"Hermione, stop. I probably won't go to school because you are allowed to be homeschooled if you have a tutor who can teach the subjects. Max can teach me all I need. I will be able to pass the qualification tests. I don't need to go to a formal school for that."

"Private tutors. Can I do that?"

"Yes, I think so. You would have to check British law to be sure, but I don't see why not. The only issue I could foresee is where would you meet to hire these tutors. Your parents are no-maj, right?"

"Huh?" Very eloquent Hermione Jean, she kicked herself.

"Oh, I think you British call them muggles? In the US they're called No-Maj. No Magic."

"Oh, yes. You know my parents are dentists." Harry could almost hear the eye roll coming from Hermione.

"Well, then where would some dentists find magical tutors? They can't violate the statute of secrecy, so they can't take an advertisement out in the local paper, can they? I don't know who you could ask these questions to. Probably somebody in the magical area, but I have no idea where that is in England."

"Oh. Professor McGonagall is taking us there next Saturday! We could find someone to ask then. Or we could ask her. Do you think that's rude?"

"Not really, she has to be prepared for those types of questions if she is introducing new people to the world. She can't rightly get offended by them. And if she does, it says more about her, than the questions."

"You're right. Thank you Jaime"

"Listen, I should probably go. This isn't exactly a cheap call."

Hermione was horrified. She had been prattling on and Jaime was calling her internationally. On a borrowed phone. "Yes of course. Go Jaime! Oh, but it was ever so good to get to talk to you. Thank you for calling on my birthday. It's the best gift I've ever gotten."

Now it was Harry's turn to start to tear up. As well as both Doctors Granger this time. "You're welcome, Hermione. I'll try to call again in the next couple of weeks to see how your conversation with this McGoggles went."

Hermione squealed, "thank you Jaime. Now shoo. Write to me. Goodbye."

After they both hung up, Hermione squealed. Loudly. The good Doctors Granger came rushing into the room, "Hermione are you ok?"

"Oh yes Mum. I'm sure you are incredibly proud of yourself for figuring out that Jaime is a boy. Well done. But I have so much to tell you…"

Mister Doctor Granger decided to weigh in in case this went poorly. He tried to be the bad guy when it was necessary so Helen could maintain a good relationship with Hermione. Helen had had a lot of problems with her own mother and was determined to stay positive with Hermione.

"Hermione, you don't have to tell us anything. We listened in on the other receiver." Hermione started winding herself up for a rant, but Richard Granger was well used to dealing with his daughter. "No. Listen. That was the first time you've ever spoken to Jaime. We had to make sure he wasn't secretly an old man trying to lure you out to meet him."

Hermione wasn't happy but understood. It also meant she didn't have to relay the entire conversation to them. The Granger household started making a list of questions for Professor McGonagall's return.

Quest Received:

Save Hermione from the Troll!

250 XP; Unique Reward

"Fuck"

Harry Potter

Divination Wizard (Level 3)

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Charisma: 10

Feat(s): Alert

Skills Proficiencies: Arcana, Deception, History, Insight, Investigation, Survival, Land Vehicles,

Languages: English, French, Parseltongue, Goblin,

Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Friends, Mending

Level 1 Spells: Charm Person, Disguise Self, Identify, Shield, Sleep, Unseen Servant, Chromatic Orb, Comprehend Languages, Speak with Animals, Detect Magic

Level 2 Spells: Hold Person, Invisibility