Harry Potter and the Dice Roll

Returning from Diagon Alley, Harry waited for the moment when Vernon would leave for work and Dudley would be engrossed in the computer. All the shooting games and noisy activities that his cousin enthusiastically engaged in were, from Master Garrett’s perspective, a pitiful imitation of the Great Game. But what could be done? Not everyone is endowed with the necessary imagination and flair, so let the poor guys content themselves with a mechanical imitation of Authentic Adventures. Moreover, Harry’s full involvement of Dudley in the process was beneficial, and it gave Potter the opportunity for a private conversation with his aunt, who was preparing vegetable stew. Harry tried to offer help with peeling carrots, received an angry refusal, and was given a sponge for washing dishes. Scrubbing a large cauldron, Harry casually remarked: “Aunt Petunia, you know, in the college where Martha studies, they are opening a course for eleven-year-olds. You can combine general and professional education there.” “You don’t think we’ll pay for that?” Petunia snorted indignantly. “By no means, Auntie,” Harry replied meekly. “But I’m very lucky! I won a scholarship. It would be a shame not to take advantage of such an opportunity. They provide full board. I’ll be back to you only for two months during the summer vacation…” “Is it really as you just told me?” Aunt Petunia suddenly looked at Harry insightfully. “You know it’s not, Aunt Petunia,” Harry smiled slightly. “But I think other family members will find this version more… psychologically comfortable. And your reputation will benefit from the fact that you raised such a capable nephew. It’s better than St. Brutus’s School, isn’t it, Aunt?” “Yes, Harry,” unexpectedly Mrs. Dursley addressed her nephew by name. “I like your version. I’ll call a taxi for you for the trip to the station.”

***

Harry Potter, also known as wizard Garrett, stood on platform nine and three-quarters, deeply inhaling the air saturated with magic. It seemed that here, just like in Diagon Alley, he could create a spell with a perfect ten on his magical cube. Beledros, in the form of an owl, perched on Harry’s shoulder. For some reason, first-year students were allowed to bring owls, toads, or cats with them, but familiars in their natural form were not allowed. These magicians were strange creatures. Harry couldn’t bring himself to consider the future teachers and classmates as wizards. After reading the textbooks, he found out that these wizards couldn’t do anything without their magic wands! It was nothing like Garrett Thalieri! In his latest adventure, thirty goblins descended upon him, knocked his magical staff out of his hands, and were ready to tear him apart. So Garrett pulled out a flute from his backpack, which he had found earlier on a dead body, and enchanted it! All the goblins started dancing a magical dance. True, the spell turned out to be so good that even Harry had to dance the macarena himself (Martha almost squealed with laughter watching Harry, who threw out knee bends, portraying his character). “Live with wolves, howl like a wolf,” Harry said to himself. “With a wand means with a wand. Right, Bellum?” Speaking “Beledros Witherbloom” every time was too long, and after some discussion, Harry decided to simply address his familiar as “Bellum.” It sounded quite dignified and martial. The owl hooted in agreement, flapped its wings, and the chest levitated above the platform, then smoothly slid into an empty compartment. “Thank you,” Harry thanked his familiar and entered the compartment, looking around with interest. Sitting alone was boring, so he went to introduce himself. Perhaps, among the wizards, he could find some normal guys? At least for a game or two? Professor Snape, or rather Master Snape, had mentioned that the journey would take the whole day. Spending six or seven hours just staring out the window was unacceptable for an experienced Master of Adventures and Lord-Dragon. All the doors were wide open, so Harry walked along the corridor, peeking into compartments. He still wanted to find peers. The older students were either already in some group or not of interest to the wizard Garrett. After a couple of carriages, someone called out to Harry: “Hello, wizard Garrett Talieri, Lord Dragon! Are you looking for someone?” Harry turned around and saw a pleased-looking lad from the robe shop. “Greetings, noble-born wizard Lord Draco Malfoy,” Harry greeted just as politely, using all the titles, extending his hand to the newcomer. The lad blushed pleasantly and responded with a handshake. “Do you want to join us in the compartment?” the noble-born offered, nodding towards his companions. “This is Crabbe and Goyle.” “Pleased to meet you,” Harry rejoiced. “Excellent! Four is the perfect number for a game!” “What game?” Draco wondered. “I’ll teach you now,” Lord Dragon promised joyfully, extracting character sheets, a gaming map, and a bag of dice from his bag. “I have a suitable adventure! From three to five second-level heroes; going higher might be challenging for you at the moment—you’ll get tangled in your character stats!” Explaining the rules took about half an hour, and creating characters took roughly an hour. Before Harry could even start the game, a disheveled girl burst into the compartment without knocking and asked with the tone of an experienced prosecutor: “Has anyone seen a toad? Neville lost his toad!” Behind the girl, a timid-looking chubby lad was lurking. It seemed to be that Neville. “Oh my goodness, he looks just like James!” Harry thought tenderly to himself, shifted his gaze to the girl, and concluded, “And she’s the spitting image of Magda, almost not a redhead… Thankfully, without an axe!” However, he said aloud: “We’ll find it right away! Bellum, please fetch Neville’s wizard toad.” On the seat, a sowlings materialized instantly, wearing a toga and glasses, with a huge toad in its wings. “Oh,” Neville hiccupped. “T… Trevor!” The sowlings bowed and handed Trevor the toad over to its rightful owner, then suggested: “Noble wizard, if you wish, I can make a cage for your toad so he won’t run away.” “Harry, did you just drag a house elf onto the train?!” Draco Malfoy marveled, or rather, the newly-born paladin Aurinax Flame. “I beg your pardon! I’m Wizard Garrett,” Harry corrected his friend sternly. “And I haven’t heard anything about house elves, this is my familiar. I specifically read and looked for 'The History of Hogwarts, ' it says you can have familiars as long as they don’t harm anyone.” Bellum created a cage for Trevor, Neville placed his pet inside, and the sowlings returned to their shelf. “Are you Harry Potter?” the girl inquired, staring at Harry’s scar. “I know all about you!” “And I don’t know any Harry Potter,” Lord Dragon cut in. He didn’t want to discuss the interpretation of his destiny as given in “Rise and Fall of the Dark Forces”; he wanted to play. “I am the wizard Garrett Talieri! And if you want to know my story, hero, sit down, have a beer, and listen to me.” “Where’s the beer?” Neville marveled. “It’s a figure of speech,” Harry waved it off. “Sit down, the more the merrier! Ragnar, move over!” Krebb, or Ragnar Big Axe, a berserk warrior from distant northern lands who worshipped the god of thunder and lightning, shifted over and clapped his massive hand on the seat. First Neville, and then the girl named Hermione, took their seats. It took another half-hour to explain the rules again and create two more characters. Harry waved his hand and composed character sheets for the players, considering their preferences for race, class, and background. Finally, the journey began. The master of adventures, without any tricks, decided to take the heroes to the Goblin Treasury—a classic one-shot for beginners. “You see a narrow, poorly lit corridor ahead. Here’s a fork. These stones haven’t been walked on for many hundreds of years, and you feel a shiver of anticipation or horror,” Harry howled a couple of hours into the game. The cute elf-inventor Maya Artificer in fright, hiding behind the broad shoulder of the half-orc druid Nevernix, while the warrior and berserker glanced at the paladin. Aurinax-Draco understood the rules better than others, so he set an example for the rest. “I want to determine if there’s a draft from anywhere,” demanded the paladin, reaching for the dice. “Rolling for survival! Merlin’s suspenders, only six! I have a plus two bonus, so a total of eight.” “You don’t feel any movement of the wind in your armor,” the Master solemnly announced. “Maybe I’ll find some runes on the walls? Perception…” suggested the elf, scooping up the dice after the paladin. “Oh, sixteen, plus a bonus of three!” “Yes, your keen gaze notices a mysterious inscription in goblin language… Too bad you didn’t study it in your time… Will you draw the attention of your companions to this inscription?” “Of course! Look, there’s something written here!” “Oh, I know goblin!” exclaimed the half-orc, “What does it say?” “'Fear is and fear leads you, and if there is fear, go, but if there is no fear, stay, '” the Master Garret howled. “What does that mean?” puzzled the paladin. “It means that the path should be shown by the most cowardly!” cried a voice in the corridor. The adventurers jerked and tore their eyes away from the game map. It turned out that the compartments' doors were packed—wizards, not spoiled by entertainment content, eavesdropped and peeked together. The Master mysteriously flashed his glasses and said nothing. “And why are you all here?” A bit embarrassed, Aurinax Flame, also known as Draco, asked. “We’re curious,” replied someone from the senior students. “What kind of game is this?” “Lords and ladies,” replied Master Garrett, standing up and raising his hands; the sleeves of his robe fluttered like a crow’s wings. “If you’re interested, on the appointed day and hour, I will tell you about journeys in the Dungeon world, where Dragons dwell. But now, it is not fitting for the dignified to interfere in someone else’s adventure. I ask you not to give any hints to the players and not to voice your opinion until the end of the path they must walk on their own, without someone else’s help or hindrance.” “That’s a good one!” someone in the corridor respectfully murmured. “All right, guys, let’s keep quiet and listen! Play on, gentlemen, we won’t disturb you!” At first, the heroes were nervous and embarrassed by such intense attention, but looking at the Master’s unwavering calm, after a couple of dozen minutes, they too got carried away and forgot about the audience. However, Master Garrett felt that the paladin Malfoy was even flattered by such massive attention. The adventure continued until a gender-neutral voice announced the imminent arrival at the final station. The door to the treasure trove, already slightly ajar before the adventurers' greedy eyes, dissolved, and they returned to their compartment. “Oh, we almost entered the treasure trove!” exclaimed the druid, i.e., Neville. “We’ll finish the game at school,” replied the Master calmly, gathering up the game map and dice. “And what if they assign us to different houses?” lamented the paladin, also Draco. “Is it expressly forbidden to meet friends from other houses?” chuckled the wizard Garrett. “Nothing is written about that in the History of Hogwarts!” “Yeah, yeah!” supported him the elf-artificer, better known in the real world as Hermione. “And what is not forbidden is allowed, right, boys?” “Yes,” chorused barbarian-Crabbe and warrior-Goyle. “So, until we meet at the threshold of the treasure trove!” Garrett theatrically swung his robe and, leading his party, headed for the exit from the carriage.