Harry Potter and the Dice Roll

McGonagall sat in her office, sorting through the first-year students' answers and compiling lists of Muggle-borns to whom teachers should be sent for introduction to the magical world. In the summer, she had no less work than during the school year. Suddenly, right in front of her, an owl appeared with a flap of wings. And wearing a robe. And glasses. McGonagall blinked. The owl blinked in response. “We need more rest,” mumbled McGonagall. The owl nodded in agreement. “I completely agree with you, Madam Witch,” said the owl. “Allow me to hand you the response letter from my wizard, and take a break!” At that moment, McGonagall realized that it was a house-elf before her and exclaimed in amazement: “Why are you an owl?” “Because that’s what my wizard wants,” the house-elf replied calmly. “He said that the letter should be delivered by an owl.” After that, the owl-house-elf solemnly laid the letter in front of McGonagall with its two little wings and disappeared. Only then did McGonagall realize that unauthorized house-elves were forbidden on the Hogwarts grounds without special permission. She hurried to summon one of the senior house-elves to her office. “Blubber, why are strangers wandering around the territory?” chubby, with puffed-up cheeks, the house-elf guiltily grabbed its ears with its paws. “Excuse me, Professor McGonagall! We cannot interfere with him! For the first time in many centuries, a wizard has successfully bound a house-elf to himself. Now, no one but his wizard has power over him. Besides, this house-elf has a very powerful name!” “What does the name have to do with it?” McGonagall wondered. The house-elf looked at her with offense but explained, “If you call a house-elf a Nitwit, he will be a nitwit. But if you give him the name of a dragon, he will be a Dragon.” McGonagall requested Irish tea and tealess, just to calm down, and took the letter. “Dear Professor McGonagall,” the letter read, “I am delighted to accept your invitation and thank you for it! I am eager to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I don’t know where to buy or obtain everything listed in your letter. Therefore, I kindly request you to provide me with the address of the store or send an escort, and also introduce me to the Master to discuss all the details. Wizard Harry Potter (Garret Thaliere, Lord Dragon).” And there was an intricate signature. The letter was composed according to all the rules of the gaming art. If the word “game” was not mentioned in the invitation, mentioning it in the response would be simply impolite and considered bad manners. Moreover, Harry soaked the paper in tea, added “bloodstains” with ketchup, and bought a green gel pen at the store (the money received from the Dungeons and Dragons club, Harry tried to save, but since the invitation was written in green, the response had to be written the same way. Precision is the politeness of kings!). McGonagall reread the letter three times. She wanted to consult with Dumbledore, but he was nowhere to be found. She had to make a decision on her own. “Severus, come in for a moment…”

***

“What the hell made you send me?!” Snape hissed indignantly after a quarter of an hour. “It says here — introduce to the Master!” McGonagall jabbed the letter in his face. “And what if he demands a dragon, will you send him a dragon with me?!” “He already has a dragon,” Minerva noted sadly, and Snape cringed at the thought of Potter riding on a dragon. “Send Flitwick, he’s a master too!” “He’s abroad and will only return on the thirtieth of August.” “Let me go abroad too?” “It’s too late, Severus!” Thus, the next morning, on the porch of an entirely Muggle house on Tis Lane in Little Whinging, stood the Master Zelius, Professor Severus Snape. Simultaneously with three letters dropped by owls. What fool ordered to send letters to a Muggle family, and in such quantities?! There wasn’t enough parchment for them! So, the visitor casually destroyed the Evanesco charm on the letters. The owls had left on their own — these creatures had more brains than Gryffindors, so they sensed the professor’s bad mood from a distance and wisely decided not to tempt fate. Snape took a deep breath, exhaled, and knocked. The door was opened by a boy who looked exactly like James, except for his green eyes, just like Lily’s. Snape initially planned to mentally crush this self-proclaimed wizard Garrett but the child stared at him with such enthusiasm that it felt awkward to immediately display his character. “Wow, what a role-playing game we’ve got going on here!” the boy joyfully exclaimed. Then, clearing his throat, he spoke differently. He straightened up, placing one hand on his chest, then performed a polite bow. “I am pleased to welcome the most honorable Master at the threshold of my humble abode, and I sincerely thank you for the meeting! I suggest finding a quieter place to discuss our secret affairs away from the ears of the common folk who are unaware of adventures and magic. Allow me only to change my lowly commoner attire to something suitable for our journey, and we can set off. I hope, my lord, that you are proficient in the teleportation spell to expedite our journey!” Snape, who had inhaled deeply to introduce himself, hiccupped and choked on the prepared reply. He froze with bulging eyes, digesting the rapid greeting delivered in one breath. Potter, the loathsome kid, considered it approval, dove into the house, and Snape heard the boy loudly shouting, “Aunt, I’m going to Martha’s!” Then he emerged… in a black cloak, complete with a hood! Severus felt his eye twitching. “Where did you, impudent boy, get that cloak?!” “Oh, this is my working cloak as a master,” the boy happily informed him. “Martha made it for me! Don’t mind that I’m only eleven; I’m one of the youngest masters in Britain. Magda had a thesis on this topic; she conducted surveys! I’m good at leading and traveling! Shall we go?” Severus sighed, attempting to calm down. Petunia. She must have told him everything. Understandable. She informed him about magic, Hogwarts, which is why he reacted so calmly to the letter and even managed to reply. Okay, this will be even easier. His task was to take the boy by the hand, lead him to Diagon Alley, and then bring him back home. The boy had been warned by his aunt, so… “Apparate, Potter.” “Apparate, master? What’s that?” the boy wondered. “Well, you, I suppose, call it teleportation,” Snape smirked unpleasantly and grabbed the boy’s shoulder more firmly. In a second, they stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron’s doors. Potter lost all his cheekiness, staggered, and to steady himself, he grabbed Snape’s professorial cloak. “Wow, sir, a seventh-level spell, just like that… Without objects and portal circles… And without a verbal component… You’re cool, Master!” Snape involuntarily felt flattered. He didn’t understand what “Seventh level” meant, but the admiration in the boy’s voice was genuinely sincere. “Don’t even think of trying it yourself,” the teacher prevailed in Snape. “Split yourself. Half here, half there. And no one can put you back together.” Harry tilted his head and nodded. “Got it, Master. I haven’t tried, I don’t have the appropriate cells! But if we’re serious — this is not a game anymore, right?” “What game are you talking about, Potter?” “Dungeons and Dragons, sir,” the boy sighed. “I knew I was actually a wizard, though Stanly insisted I was a mutant… But it’s just unexpected. I thought it would be a very advanced campaign with elements of role-playing…” Snape realized he understood nothing and decided to clarify everything. “You are a wizard, Mr. Potter. You will enroll in Hogwarts. It is actually a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They don’t play there; they teach magic, although I doubt such an indulged boy can succeed in studies.” “I’m an honors student, sir,” the boy puffed up. “I can distinguish between a game and studying. Let’s go already! The stuff from the letter won’t buy itself!” “There,” Snape led him through the bar, pointed to the entrance to Diagon Alley, and gruffly added, “By the way, I’m a potions master, Professor Snape; feel free to call me that.” “Professor Snape, got it!” the insufferable boy nodded, seemingly already forgetting about the reprimand. “And now I’m kind of tight with gold… I did bring a couple of pounds, though…” “Your father had means,” Snape said in a tone that took unimaginable effort to keep almost neutral. And if his face twisted, it was due to sourness in his mouth. “Oh!” Potter dashed ahead of the escort, and Snape had to pick up the pace to catch up with the hyperactive boy. “It’s all in memory of Lily!” the professor comforted himself. In the bank, Potter tried to scoop a pile of gold into the pockets of his robe, and the goblin, slyly smiling, sold the boy an oversized purse. The boy cheerfully exclaimed, “A Bag of holding, my first artifact! Only ten gold? I’ll take it!” and immediately agreed to the deal. He stuck to the artifacts piled up in the corner. Snape noticed a couple of books and, unable to resist his curiosity, approached them. Then he looked inside. Very interesting works on artifact crafting. It would be nice to read them… “Do you want to borrow, Professor?” Potter noticed his interest. “But return them when you’re done studying!” Okay, maybe the boy wasn’t as repulsive as his father? In the bookstore, Snape felt like Potter was trying to bury himself alive under a mountain of books. Snape had to take away “Necromancy in Examples” (the book explained the dangers of dark magic with examples, but the examples were quite detailed…) and unfold textbooks for him. He also squeezed in magical legislation and wizarding etiquette. Judging by the unhealthy excitement the boy showed toward… Ambiguous treatises, this monster would probably enjoy raising a couple of zombies. In the robes shop, Draco was already waiting on the bench. “Hello, Uncle Severus!” the blond boy greeted happily. “Greetings, Malfoy heir,” Snape frowned. “I apologize, Professor Snape,” Draco realized that at home it was “Uncle Severus,” and at school, it was “Professor” and turned to Harry. “Hello!” “Hello!” Potter responded amiably, climbing onto the bench for fitting and willingly exposing himself to the enchanted measuring tape. “I’m Garrett Thaliere, Lord Dragon.” “Potter…” Snape muttered through clenched teeth, leaning against the wall. “Don’t play the fool.” “P… Potter?” Draco asked again, staring at the celebrity with wide eyes. “Potter,” Harry sighed. “But I prefer the second surname.” “I’m Draco Malfoy,” the blond introduced himself, looking a bit embarrassed. “Draco, from the Latin 'Dragon'?” Harry surprised Snape with his quick thinking. “Good name, sounds impressive!” Draco beamed with pleasure. Robes were stitched, cauldrons and a telescope were purchased, and the pharmacy was looted as thoroughly as the bookstore. Snape had to wrest the dragon’s blood flask away from the child in a struggle. “Potter, I’m afraid to imagine why you need this! Put the flask back in its place!” “Professor, but it gives you fire breath! You drink the little flask, and you’re like a walking flamethrower, such beauty, please, please!” “Don’t you dare! You might even think of drinking Acromantula venom! Spit it out!” “Well, Professor…” Last on the list was the wand. Snape suspected that there wouldn’t be a show here either. And he was right. “What do you mean, a wand? I want a rod!” Potter complained. “I don’t make rods!” Ollivander hissed at him, offended. “You won’t find them in my shop!” “Oh, won’t I?” Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out… it looked like a cube. Snape’s tooth started aching for some reason. This tooth always ached when trouble was near. “A roll of the dice for luck, I want to find a magical wand for myself!” The cube flew somewhere under the counter. Potter reached for it, rummaged there with something. The adult wizards watched him with nervous interest. “Ah, a clean twenty!” a cry came from under the counter, and Potter, with cobwebs in his hair, crawled out, dragging an antique cedar box behind him. “How could I forget about it?” Ollivander mumbled, puzzled. “The Elemental Rod, made by my great-great-grandfather, a branch of oak split by lightning and scales of a salamander… Mr. Potter, with this staff, instead of a breeze, you’ll summon a tornado, and if you attempt to transfigure a handkerchief, you’ll flood the class with rain! Too spirited and complicated for a young wizard!” “Garrett Thaliere—an experienced elemental wizard!” the boy consoled Ollivander and waved the wand. A shower of sparks burst from the tip. “Now, can I have a wand to complete the set?” the cheeky boy nodded contentedly. Demanding a wand with a dragon heartstring core, Potter scattered a bunch of red sparks from it. Then, with the air of an inherited lord, he dumped fifty gold coins onto the counter and proudly stuffed his immense suitcase with his purchases. Ollivander resigned himself.

***

Minerva found Snape in his office that evening. Accompanying the Potions Master was an empty bottle of Firewhisky and a half-empty one. The only thing the Gryffindor head achieved from her colleague was, “Just not Slytherin!”