Harry Potter and the Scabbard of Excalibur
It was a dark and comfortless night on the first of November. The clock conscientiously neared the destined mark of midnight but was still a good near-hour off.
It was cold outside, almost freezing, but it wasn't the temperature that made this night so odd and unbearable. The foremost cause was this unexplained feeling in the air as if some crucial mechanism had a dire malfunction earlier in the evening and hadn't yet been fixed, filling the very atmosphere with indescribably thick sobriety and agitation; it proved enough that most people couldn't fall asleep for some unclear reason, and yet the entire neighborhood was deadly quiet; not so much as the hum of a passing car or the squeaking of a mouse. Almost, one could imagine that outside, something vastly beyond measure had happened. It was very much the kind of night that would be dreadful for a midnight walk or a friendly neighborhood visit.
As such, when someone rapped their knuckles loudly upon the doors of the Dursley household in the suburbs of Little Whinging, the inhabitants felt considerably surprised by this turn of events.
At first, Vernon Dursley was more than content to simply leave matters there and let the irritating guest's hope wilt into ashes, so that they may abandon the doorstep of his abode - who'd even pester good hard-working people at this ungodly hour? - but unexpectedly, instead of abating, the rapping turned into rapid knocking, and seconds later, the rapid knocking turned into a cacophony of focused and intensified banging so deafeningly insistent it shook the entire house and he feared the unknown visitor may throw the door entirely off its hinges. As such, he shouted an expletive, and then, somewhat louder, he shouted he'd be right down, which terminated the noise, at least momentarily.
A half-minute to dress, a few seconds to look himself over in the mirror and make sure he was at least modestly presentable, and he walked downstairs to open the door.
"Ruddy barking mad..." Vernon muttered to himself as he walked, and then, moments later opened the door at last.
"Good evening," said the man in the center, "May we come in, Mr. Vernon Dursley?"
There were five people on Vernon's porch and front yard. The one who spoke was an old man, with a length of bleached hair and a vast shimmer-white beard stretching down almost to his belt. He was dressed in a conical hat and long robe of luxuriant blue silk, both of them spotted with yellow moons and five-point stars which appeared to ripple and sway on the cloth.
He was, in the fewest words possible, dressed like a wizard from a storybook.
As Vernon cast his gaze at the other guests, he realized they, too, were incredibly odd.
There was a woman a bit older than him, but not as much as the speaking wizard-senior, in a witch's hat and dark robe, brandishing a look of particularly unconcealed distaste with which she actively disfavored him. Next to her stood a thick, burly man over three meters tall with an unkempt, wild mane of black hair, almost seamlessly conjoined with a bushy beard going down to his navel, dressed in a thick leather trenchcoat and red woolen shirt, both fitted for his gigantic size. He, in turn, was looking back and around rather than focusing on Vernon, attention constantly on his surroundings, and on the others standing behind them.
And then, a bit further away, standing next to a motorcycle parked on the street with its engine on, a pair of fairly nondescript men - one blonde, one brunette - in slightly more practical outfits; shirts and trousers, dark work boots like something that he himself might wear to work. One of them gently held a sleeping baby in his arms.
"I-" Vernon blinked the last spots of sleep out of his eyes, incrementally - gradually - coming to comprehension. "I beg your pardon? What is this?"
"Forgive me," said the old man, and then smiled merrily. "I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and these are Professors McGonagall and Hagrid. Don't worry about the ones further behind, they can wait for our departure. Now, may we please come into your house at this time, Mr. Dursley? We have urgent business to talk about."
As seconds passed, questions sprung to mind, one after another, each one slower to come and increasingly unclear. Why would an entire contingent of professors come to his house, at midnight, dressed in the robes of wizards, one of them staggeringly tall? And how did they get here, if their vehicle was one motorcycle? Vernon noticed this inherent strangeness, though with difficulty that bewildered and frustrated something instinctual and deep within him like he was actively repulsed by even the consideration of such things. He was going to ask these questions out loud, but he was robbed of his attempt when Professor Dumbledore spoke first.
"Ah, Mr. Dursley," Professor Dumbledore stepped gently forward, and raised Vernon's attention back to himself, "I should mention, and stress this as much as I can - Mr. Dursley, it is absolutely pivotal that you allow us indoors before we speak of anything. So I will ask you once more, very politely, would you very much please allow us to enter your home?"
There was something mesmerizing about that question.
In the end, the man's exceeding politeness had won him over and, unable to resist his sudden and unexpected desire to welcome these unknown strangers into his house, Vernon stepped to the side and indicated the living room door, "Of course. Make yourselves at home, err, Professors. May I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"
"No, thank you," said Dumbledore, still smiling, as he stepped in and took an initial glance at the entryway. He seemed very happy for some reason. "I'm happy to tell you that we shall not bother you for long, Mr. Dursley. No longer than fifteen minutes, in fact. May you please call down your wife, Petunia? I believe she'd like to hear what I have to say."
And so, a minute and a half later, after calling down his wife, everyone was seated comfortably in the living room, excluding the giant Professor Hagrid who seemed content to stand beyond the reaches of the doorframe and peer at the furniture around the room. His wife, Petunia, seemed rather discomforted by her sudden awakening, and even more by the appearance of the guests.
"Ms. Dursley, it pains me greatly to inform you that at this time, yesterday, your sister, Lily Potter passed away," said Professor Dumbledore somberly.
His wife's face was a cold mask, one so gravelly etched that even Vernon had difficulty saying how much the news troubled her. Maybe it didn't trouble her - he recalled, from a few conversations, that Petunia did not care much for her sister, but Vernon didn't believe his Petunia to be so utterly callous that she wouldn't feel even a glimmer of sadness. He stayed quiet.
"She did," said Petunia, in a slow voice, and then said something that surprised Vernon; "I felt it happen, I think."
Dumbledore nodded. "That's quite ordinary in an event like that."
A moment of silence, somber and tense; the former, more than the latter.
"How?"
"It was a murder," said Professor McGonagall to that, accent faintly Scottish; she interrupted as Petunia was about to ask another question, "And I am sorry, Ms. Dursley, but before you ask, we cannot reveal more at this time. It's a matter of national, perhaps international security."
At that, Vernon quirked his eyebrows and felt like these people were jokesters. He realized, in retrospect, what a tremendous act of questionable logic it was to invite these robed people into his house, but before he could speak, once more, Dumbledore was faster - these people had a tendency to beat you to the punch.
"I am happy to say their infant son, Harry, survived the incident," Dumbledore said. "I believe you have a son of your own. Dudley, yes?"
At that, Petunia stiffened. "You can't-"
"Please, hear me out," Dumbledore raised a hand, and at that, she stopped. "Mr. Dursley, Ms. Dursley, as I am sure it's apparently obvious to at least one of you, I am a wizard."
"Right. Of course, Professor. Of course. And I am the rightly crowned King of England," said Vernon, with a hint of absurd humor - an improper answer, disrespectful and childish, but in the heat of the moment, he felt mocked and disrespected, so the response came almost by second nature. "Shall we have tea and crumpets together?"
At that, Dumbledore merely chuckled. "Very well." And with an elaborate flourish of the hand, he made a porcelain set appear; a teapot, teacups, stirrers, saucers, a milk jug, a creamer jug along with a sugar pitcher, and an entire bowl stuffed with a dazzling array of crumpets.
All that Vernon could do in response was dumbly stare at the display of blatant magic, and, slowly, remove the crown that appeared on top of his head. It was made from actual polished gold, smooth yet thick; he could see his own clear reflection on its side. It was inset with shining rubies and pale sapphires; amber cuts, aureolin topazes, glimmering emeralds, and pellucid diamonds; a crown so unimaginably rich that if he wore it and crossed the border to France, its mere presence would sink the national economy under the sudden weight of inflation within moments.
"Do you believe me now, Mr. Dursley?" Dumbledore asked, making the teaset and crown disappear with a wave of the hand. Vernon's heart trembled at the disappearance of the crown, which had briefly captivated him as utterly as a bright scintillating light captures the attention of a fly. "I know your wife did initially. The Potters were magical, after all."
"You- You knew about this?" Vernon turned to regard his wife, but she was stone-faced, resolutely staring at the wizard.
"What do you want from us?" she asked.
"Allow me to explain," Dumbledore continued, removing his hat. "I have an excellent opportunity for you, as a family. In short, I wish for you to adopt the young Harry Potter into your family, and to treat him no worse than you would a child of your own. If you would do this for me, there is much I can do for you. I have acquired special dispensation to break our usual rules in these regards."
Maybe it was the dead of midnight, and maybe the man on the other side of the table was a complete freak, but Vernon could at least hear the freak out to the end, that he may better laugh at him in the end. And besides, he remembered the bright, uplifting, joyous feeling of holding that crown in his hands...
"As an example, it wouldn't be a significant issue for me to procure access to the most elite schooling for your son. I am more than able to ensure his attendance and graduation in a place such as Harvard or Oxford. By age twenty, he could have a doctorate in any scientific discipline he desired, and he would find it neither strenuous nor difficult to accomplish this."
"I-" Vernon was about to call the man on bullshit, but then he remembered the teacup display, the crown - he was speaking to a wizard, a man of the supernatural world. And he was, apparently, not merely a casual practitioner, but an outright Professor in his paranormal vocation. So who was to say that he wouldn't be able to do exactly what he promised to do?
It seemed like his brief stutter was taken as a questioning call. Dumbledore briefly ruminated.
"You? Well, for you, Mr. Dursley, we might ensure something like absolute career success. It'd be unproblematic to acquire a larger company for you to own personally, one much bigger and more economically successful and broad than the one you currently work at. Or, if you so prefer, to help you ascend up the ladder even further, up to the level of executive regional director or higher. Indeed, I suppose there are many things that we could do for your family, and the price is very simple indeed. I would personally ensure there are no significant issues in your harboring of young Harry. And in return, our society will provide almost anything you ask for, within... considerable reason. All you'd have to do is ensure that he grows to be a proper young man - a task that, for a family like your own, should not be a major issue, I trust?"
At that question, Vernon and Petunia Dursley had to take a momentary recess, asking their guests to please wait outside. Their discussion lasted five minutes, and though both of them agreed they disliked magic on principle, this opportunity had too much attached - for them, but also for their little boy in particular.
On that night, the Dursleys made a deal with the devil.
---
And now, young Potter, select your fate.
Blessings
Any one (1) of these, but no more than that, and no less, excepting a situation where you have taken on the appropriate burdens.
[ ] Heir of Slytherin
*Allows you to speak in Parseltongue, the language of serpents and other such creatures, including politicians.
*Makes your blood considerably more powerful ritualistically and alchemically. A single spoonful, ingested by a Muggle, has effects similar to LSD and horse tranquilizers. Its effects can be modified.
*Makes you a novice natural Legilimens, allowing for the use of that discipline without the use of a wand. If you wish to develop this skill past its most basic levels, you'll need much effort.
*An inherent aptitude for the noble art of dueling and battle magic, especially magus a magus.
*A House Blessing, mutually exclusive with the other House Blessings.
[ ] Champion of Gryffindor
*Although wizards are, by default, absurdly durable, you are thrice more durable than an average adult wizard, and recover in a fifth of the time from even debilitating wounds.
*A considerably unnatural level of resistance to magic; high (80%) resistance to spells with intangible effects like Petrificus Totalus, modest (20%) resistance against effects with tangible effects like Stupefy, applied externally, after your natural and accumulated resistance. Resistance doesn't affect effects that are beneficial (someone slowing your fall down the stairs, healing, etc.)
*An inherent aptitude for the martial art of fencing and swordsmanship, as well as physical self-reinforcement.
*Allows you to Apparate through the Hogwarts wards, as well as to issue commands to its defensive mechanisms and spatial motors on the same level as the Headmaster.
*A House Blessing, mutually exclusive with the other House Blessings.
[ ] Sage of Ravenclaw
*An immaculate memory, virtually eidetic, allowing you for perfect, non-confusing, and near-instantaneous recall of almost everything that's happened since you were around three years old. Its sheer depth astounds and scares even you; if your cognition wasn't as smooth as it was, it'd be easy to get lost in the immensity of your own recall. Immune to Memory Charms of all kinds.
*Makes you considerably better (100% increase) at developing your own spells or modifying spells you know.
*Become ever-wise to the twisting floor plans and halls of Hogwarts, including its most secret passages, except for the Chamber of Secrets, whose domain lies in the hand of Slytherin alone.
*Makes you into a natural Seer and diviner.
*A House Blessing, mutually exclusive with the other House Blessings.
[ ] Lord of Hufflepuff
*All initiated Hufflepuffs are filled with an instinctive sense of deference towards you. If you happen to become a Hufflepuff yourself, this effect will be further intensified by several steps.
*Never feel especially bothered by having to work more; no rolls for burn-out, and working harder does not cost additional Will. You are simply assumed to always be doing your best to advance.
*Allows you to conjure the Patronus simply by feeling good about yourself. And in time, you may begin to study the secrets of what ancient tomes call the "Infinite Patronus..."
*At night, when you sleep, you can still hear the screams in your dreams. It is very fortunate that you cannot remember your dreams.
*A House Blessing, mutually exclusive with the other House Blessings.
[ ] Boy-Who-Lived
*Although you were famous before in the wizarding community, now you are an incredible celebrity; a minor form of messianic savior for the magical people of Britain who recognize your name, and something of a curious phenomenon to Muggleborn or fellow children who heard your story.
*It lends considerable weight to your actions and words from the perspective of certain people. Surely, whoever opposes the Boy-Who-Lived is also opposing conventional wisdom? However, some people will merely see this as a reason to go further...
*Become completely unaffected by the Three Unforgivable Curses - foolish attempts are reflected at double (or more) power back on their caster. If someone threatens to cast the Cruciatus on you, simply laugh and tell them to go ahead.
[ ] An Equal In Truth
*Although the reason for this is presently unclear, the scar on your forehead emanates incredible power. +.25 Gnosis for every chapter, raised up to .5 Gnosis on occassion.
*Increases your Magical Power. At the moment you enter Hogwarts, you'll command the raw capacity of a determined and hard-working 2nd-Year student, allowing you to learn spells, potions, and other items on that level without significant issue aside from theoretical knowledge.
*Altogether, over time, your Magical Power grows considerably faster; by the time you're in your 5th Year, you'll actually have the raw magical power of a Hogwarts graduate.
*Requires Mark of the Equal.
[ ] A Child Prodigy
*Arrogance is often the result of upbringing or nature, and in your case, it's more the latter than the former (accuse the Dursleys of whatever you wish, but they did their best; sometimes, the best simply isn't enough.)
*Your growth in ordinary Skills is highly increased (300%).
*Your growth in Magical Skills is considerably increased (150%).
*Requires Heroic Flaw: Arrogance.
[ ] Trismegistus
*Makes you Thrice-Great.
*After you enter Hogwarts, you'll be allowed to select up to three subjects, topics, or areas in which you shall excel to a point of surpassing every peer, and scraping against the ceiling of your own teacher's skill level. All of your attainments in this domain or field shall be incredibly swift and groundbreaking.
*As an example, if you select Broom Flying, you might become the Seeker in your first year, or if you select Potions, you might yet brew something that your teacher won't be able to insult...
Curses
You do not have to pick any of these. However, for every Curse, there is a Blessing - gain an extra of the latter for each of the former you pick up. Every Curse also carries its own, unique Additional Boon, independent of the Blessings above. None of the curses, except the Apocryphal Curse, will actually reveal the effects of their Additional Boons to you, however. If you desire to play a Harry Potter whose existence is as close to canonicity as possible, then select every Curse.
Beware, the descriptions of these afflictions may be somewhat deceiving and innocuous on first blush...
[ ] Mark of the Equal - A scar on your forehead, like a seared brand in the shape of the lightning bolt, emblazoned upon your skin. It always seems too fresh, as if the wound had been dealt merely yesterday rather than years ago. It's like something is aggravating it. And occasionally, it aches, with a terrible, sharp intensity that prompts you to hiss.
Also makes you very recognizable. The scar may be concealed using esoteric means such as Polyjuice Potion. There may be other demerits to selecting this option than the ones mentioned here.
[ ] Impaired Eyesight - A defect in the eyes, sadly incurable except for the most potent alchemical remedies and potions... but maybe you can live with it, for now.
A strong malus to any task which requires visual acuity or precision when you do not have proper corrective glasses. It may also require a couple of visits to the oculist, but given how richly they are being rewarded for taking care of you, the Dursleys won't mind taking a few hours out of their day to do this for you.
[ ] Heroic Flaw: Arrogance - Just like your father, eh, Potter?
A relatively simple flaw, at its core. Even as a young boy, you lack the critical temperance and humility that you should - whether it manifests as conviction and stubbornness, or heroic anger at perceived injustice, or simply a complete absence of any conception that other people's opinions have weight, you are almost intolerably arrogant.
Although it's without a doubt - fated - that you shall become an arrogant little boy, the nature of your arrogance is highly dependent on your actions as well as the contents of your childhood misadventures. It's possible to get rid of this flaw with relative ease, simply by acquiring refinement and wisdom over the years, or in more brutal cases, by being harshly defeated or humiliated.
[ ] Apocryphal Curse - May you live in interesting times.
A hero must face great adversity in order to earn his role - as such, a hero's life is interesting by definition, with the frequent occurrence of vastly improbable events which force them to dig deep and discover whether they are truly worthy of everything that makes them. The challenges this presents will never be beyond your ability to overcome.
Additional Boon - However, the tremendous life of a Hero is filled with fortune and misfortune both, not only a constant string of the latter, so for every three unfortunate events that afflict you, you are ensured to also experience a minimum of one positive event to match them, at the very least. A specialized effort may skew this ratio further in your favor over time.
---
Special Rule: Gnosis
As thread users participate in active discussion and produce content that the Quest Master deems interesting or amusing, the thread will accumulate Gnosis, a form of pseudo-monetary abstraction which can be expended to gain various rewards. As an example, a 25-Gnosis reward might be something like the possibility to research a Philosopher's Stone; a more likely 7-Gnosis reward might be the mastery of a specific spell to a degree rarely attainable by most wizards; a simple 2-Gnosis reward could be the ability and willingness to study for an important exam in spite of not having slept for the entire previous night due to dubious adventuring in the Forbidden Forest.
However, every direct use of the true name of You-Know-Who will remove some portion of this useful resource, including uses made in earnest wisecrack or tomfoolery, including the twisting of the forbidden name into comedic versions, or concealing it under thick layers of linguistic translation or cipher. This forceful annihilation of Gnosis may be revoked if the player makes an honest apology to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and promises to never use his name again, for they are unworthy of doing so. There cannot be any sarcasm in this apology and it must be performed with uttermost seriousness and sincere regret for having used the name in so blatant and frivolous a manner. Using the Dark Lord's abandoned name is forbidden with even harsher penalties. And furthermore, all uses of His acceptable epithets (see this paragraph,) must be capitalized, bolded, and written out using the color gray, otherwise, your post will not qualify to receive any Gnosis or Gnosis Modifier.
