Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, The Gamer, RWBY, any characters within, or the general world of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. Company, Sung Sang-Young, Sang-Ah, Mony Oum, Kerry Shawcross, Miles Luna, and/or Rooster Teeth as applicable). Most of this world was created from those works.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

In between realities, he watched.

He had once been a person, human. Born with too many responsibilities and an overly interesting life, he had grown and gained power, friends, and connections. Practiced his arts, learned forgotten knowledge, and eventually began changing as a life form.

Eventually his lifespan stretched into the distance, unfathomably huge. His power grew through rituals and his many adventures, and in the end his being itself grew due to his long years of life itself.

His first mistake, unknown at the time, was to not spend more effort finding ways to share his power.

His loved ones passed on. Healthy, yes. Young-looking, yes. But not as persistent as he. After his first friend died of old age, he had thrown himself into researching the true restoration of youth.

When his first love had been assassinated during an attempt to blackmail him of his secrets, his rage had been unheard of. Years later he learned how to bind his loved ones directly to his own existence, jealous arms refusing to abandon his loves into that darkness. Preventing them from leaving him behind.

Yet after his oldest lover still died, unharmed and physically young, he had been both shocked and determined to prevent this from happening again.

In the process, he learned about how soul exhaustion could cause self destruction.

Yet even with his frantic advances, he learned hurtful truths. Not everyone could handle continuous living. Dying was part of the cycle of life, an ending before reincarnation or whatever else existed after the final curtain.

One by one, his loved ones, his lovers, his children... they all left. Some eager to see other loved ones, some regretful that their friend and loved one was going to be left behind again. As they left his grasp, he clutched his few treasures tighter.

After only a few thousand years, he was alone.

Around 318 thousand years after that, he had finally designed a combination of rituals, spells, and meditation techniques to prevent soul exhaustion. He celebrated by playing back memories of his last birthday party with his whole family.

He couldn't actually remember them without heavy effort any more. It took a week to remember how to cry, his gnarled form uncared for as his tears fell to the stone floor. But at least he could morn their loss, even as his blind eyes viewed old memories.

Armed with information far too late, he realized that... he didn't want to be alone. Yet he couldn't revive the dead as they had all been reincarnated... or vanished entirely. His abilities were unable to find them in the afterlife at least.

Eventually he decided... to make new friends.

Reality after reality he visited. He made new allies, encountered new creatures, explored new energies and techniques, and gained new lovers. He became known as the Benevolent Omnipotent Being, and for a time felt both happiness and purpose in his life.

Yet outside his existence, outside his power, people continued to pass away. And eventually, a dear friend of his approached him and requested to be allowed to die.

Apparently he had compared his friendship with his longing for long passed friends and lovers... and decided to die and join them.

B.O.B. had been shocked! He spent weeks trying to convince his beloved friend to stay. Offered power, adventure, at one point he had even fell to his knees and begged.

And it had worked... for a few years. But he came back and requested death again, this time content and unwilling to change his mind.

In the end, the process took much longer this time. But after a few million years, B.O.B. was alone again. At some point it became too hard to make new connections, and he was forced to watch his beloved people beg for death.

He altered himself fundamentally to prevent this pain again. From then on, he could only grant 'Companion' status to 7 individuals at a time. Far better than allowing armies of loved ones to beg for release from life in chain reactions.

Once his last loved one left him behind, he fell into depression for many years.

Later, he found out that he had been retitled the 'Bastard Omnipotent Being'. His self-hate and sadness had him lashing out at others, forcing individuals to do arduous tasks that should have been simple, punishing others for having friends, companionship... love.

Even the hate faded in time, and he decayed into the 'Benign Omnipotent Being'.

Time crawled on. He found other Omnipotent Beings... but they were younger. Apparently one in particular would find interesting people and situations, and grant gifts or power ups to allow those individuals to ascend in power, even eclipsing her own if desired. In the process she had created dozens of new friends, allies, and foes this way.

He was older than all of them combined. Apparently, most Omnipotent Beings either ended up destroying themselves by accident or gave up on existing. To him, they were but children.

It had been a long time since he had seen children.

So he began to watch. People, Places, Realities... his gaze viewed them all from between realms. And watching heroes triumph over evil, of love bringing people together, of light fighting impossible odds... eventually he changed again, and the 'Bemused Omnipotent Being' felt the first true interest in the goings on of reality in many an eon.

Slowly, he began to interact again. Granting a hero luck, encouraging chance meetings, in one case forcing silly accidents on one poor boy to always trip into erotic situations. In a way, he was taking small steps in recovering something he lost so long ago he couldn't even guess a number of years.

He was becoming a person again.

He had done many a thing in the process of course, some good or even evil. Grabbing people just before death and inserting them into other realities, sending people back in time (Well, into another time line running at a different speed and retroactively replacing that person... but it seemed the same for those involved)... watching the weak become strong.

And now... he was ready to end. But just because he was going to pass on, didn't mean he couldn't play one last prank... One final trick on existence.

He reached out into a reality where a version of himself was destined to die. Not due to the many lies being worked against him, not due to the crazy old man, abusive family, or even the evil villain who searched for revival. No, this world would be struck directly by a meteor in less than a decade and wiped clean.

Touching the existence of the young boy, barely even 14 years old, he found the scrap of soul embedded in his forehead and slaughtered it. Within moments he cleansed the sliver of soul and converted it into a connection node of his own power. It wouldn't instantly change the child of course, aside from being boring that much power had to be worked into, like an old man easing into a hot spring.

After carefully ensuring that the connection would remain, he began disabling safety restrictions. No, there was no maximum cap of abilities or levels. No, foes and opponents would NOT automatically be granted skills and levels to keep everything 'fair'. Who cared about fair? It was the act of being worlds above your foes that made one feel strong, if everyone was perfectly balanced as you it would feel like nothing changed at all.

A simplified interface to automatically adapt and protect those designated as 'friends', 'lovers', or 'family'. At least this time they wouldn't die to age, soul destruction or so forth. Or at least, not as easily. Even as old as he had become, he still missed his darling, his first love. She had been so young, not even a thousand years.

Sniffling, he focused back on the abilities. Self-adaption, sure. And most importantly, the hidden setting of 'Monkey Paw' and 'Long Term Con' were both OFF. Having your internal system secretly betraying you had been interesting back during his Bastard days, but not as a going away gift.

Finally, a self-testing and simple reality travel program. His chosen wouldn't be stuck in a dead reality like he had been, alone and desperately experimenting to escape.

Last of all, a book. One that had a limited copy of his consciousness, for problem solving and answering the boy's questions. One not aware enough to fall into depression like him.

As the oldest and most powerful B.O.B. gently released his power and faded away, hopefully to find his loves again, a young wizard was just starting his fourth year in school. Harry James Potter was sitting stunned in the Great Hall. His friends and classmates shocked as his headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore read his name from a paper slip that had just escaped the Goblet of Fire.

And even as shocked as he was, he quickly noticed that no one was looking at him in support, or to help.

Surrounded by accusing stares, he numbly followed the other three 'Champions' of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to a back room.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

The boy collapsed on the stone floor. His normally bright green eyes were now dull and listless, his worldly possessions beside him.

That had gone badly.

Running a hand through his raven black hair, he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

Vary badly.

A good chunk of his memory was a blur, but the highlights were still harsh. He received no support from his teachers, which to a certain level he had already come to expect. The foreign students also granted no support, but that was honestly not an issue to him.

But Ronald Weasley had gone off on a jealous rage, and Hermione Granger had given a strict lecture about how irresponsible it had been to secretly enter the competition, how annoyed she was that Harry had avoided her wise advice, and how he should be ashamed to have cheated in an internationally famous and history making competition. If she hadn't had tears in her eyes, he would have likely taken the speech pretty badly.

Ron hadn't understood most of those words, but had been quick to follow it up with an agreement that Harry was a rotten cheater. And a few other almost unrelated rants about how Harry shouldn't have money, fame, etc. etc.

Neither would listen to him. His house thought he cheated. His head of house, Professor Minerva McGonagall, thought he cheated.

Snape didn't count, the man always thought badly of Harry in any situation.

But Dumbledore had never done something like this before. Sure, he had always been a bit odd or said confusing things... but now he just gave sad looks of accusation.

It had been too much. Due to years of abuse at his aunts and and uncles, it had already been hard enough to keep his spirits going. If anyone at all had given him... SOME type of support, he could have used that as a life line to tough through his classes, the crowds of insults and whispers.

But no one had.

Not even the Weasley twins, Fred and George, whom had given him his father's Marauder's Map, nor Ginny whom he had saved from soul consumption and a giant snake that shot death beams from its eyes.

Hermione though? She had been with him since first year. He had helped save her from a troll. He had fought earlier mentioned snake of death partially to avenge her.

He had gone through time with her and saved her from a werewolf and an army of soul sucking demons.

And she wasn't going to help this time.

He had tried. Even after her lecture, even after the pang of betrayal, he had set aside his pride and tried to be a serious as he could. He had explained to the girl that he believed his life was in danger, that he needed her help, that he had no one else to turn to.

And she had hesitated. Maybe she would have agreed, maybe not... but that hesitation had been enough for Ron to break in the middle, red with rage or something more, and punch him in the face.

By the time he turned back to where she had stood, he realized that she had left.

Ron's punch hadn't been a huge issue. He had been hit a lot as a child, and his own magic had adapted to such things to both protect him, make it look worse so attackers would stop sooner, and heal faster.

But Hermione had left, went up the girl staircase, and he couldn't follow.

So he took what he owned, hexed Ron when the boy tried to stop him, and went to the one place that almost no one else in the wizarding world could get to.

The Chamber of Secrets, Salazar's hidden chamber.

He had originally stopped by the kitchen to get some dinner to take with him, yet stumbled upon Dobby the House Elf. After an exhausting conversation, Dobby had offered to become HIS house elf, to help him.

It was the first supportive thing he had heard all day. And in a fit of humor, as well as imagining Hermione's reaction, he had accepted Dobby's help and done the short 'binding' ritual.

Best decision ever.

Not only had the elf been able to clean and clear up the tunnels and cave-in on the way to the chamber, but he had brought furniture and stuff into the chamber itself. The giant Basilisk was still there, but thankfully the high magic atmosphere of the school and chamber had preserved the beast and prevented the smell of decay.

Dobby couldn't move, alter, or harvest the snake (Too much magical residue in the flesh) so now Harry was treating it like modern art, as long as one stayed away from the toothy end.

Far too much of his time was spent trying not to mope. He felt... really helpless. Normally Hermione would not only be supporting him, but be three steps ahead. Probably with a list of 'What you might face in the tournament', 'What you won't face in the tournament', and 'Items you should be working on because homework is important!'

He liked that about her.

Without her at his side, he honestly felt like was missing a limb.

Ron had been flaky enough that Harry had never felt a major loss when he would unavoidably blow up, rage at him, get lost during simple conversations... he had been a friend to goof around with. Sure it wasn't an effective or efficient use of his time, but relaxing with a friend had been a secret dream of his for years when he was locked away in the dark.

He tried not to sniffle. Friends were supposed to support you, not hurt like this.

Once again he focused on the largest issue.

He was going to die.

There was no other option. If Sirius had responded to his letter, or if Hermione was going to help, or if he was allowed to at the very least ask help from his teachers... but no, he was once again alone.

A just recently graduated fourth year magic student, one who was not really at the top of most of his classes (Although he had achieved some AMAZING extracurricular successes... Patronis Charm for one). A boy with no secret training, with no special abilities other than being a great flyer and being able to talk to snakes.

And he was forced to compete against three 7th year wizards and witches, each top of their grade years, each lauded as amazing examples of their schools.

In a tournament that had a massive death rate, both for competitors and watchers.

His hands clawed at his notes. He was trying to come up with... something. No one had told him what the actual task was, just something requiring 'bravery'.

He hadn't bothered to return to class since coming down here, he was allowed to skip anyway to prepare for this death sentence.

And he wasn't doing well.

He had gone back to basics, to try and gain better access and control of his magic. Almost non-stop he had worked on all of his spells, getting them down to silent near flicks of his wand from the initial 'Lumos' charm all the way up to the end of third year spells.

But the contest was coming up, and he heard rumors that there were going to be huge magical beasts in the first task.

Third year spells, the most vicious of which was the 'Flip-back' jinx, wouldn't phase a Cerberus like Fluffy from first year, and that was considered a 'Safe' dark creature. He didn't even know the stunning charm.

Looking down at the frantic notes he had done since finding out that he was going against something large and magically resistant, he could feel despair clawing at his soul. Even if he had chosen a single one of these spells and ignored all the rest, he couldn't master it in time for the event. And if he chose the wrong one, it could be worse than useless and not just reduce his chances but wipe out his magic reserves, serving him up to the creature on a silver platter.

Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he flattened the parchment and whispered in the dark. "I can do this. I just need direction. An idea."

Almost instantly Dobby popped in. Startled, and feeling a tingle of hope, Harry turned with a smile on his face.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

He gazed at the grim elf.

Dragons.

Not just Dragons, but Nesting Mother Dragons, four of them, each a different species which required different approaches to safely handle.

His notes slid to the floor. The only creature worse would be things like Nundus, Thunderbirds, and other city devastating creatures.

He nearly dove at one of the books he had asked Dobby to 'borrow' from the library for him. It was about harvesting animals (including Dragons) for parts and had a whole section about how to handle them in the wild.

A few minutes later, he collapsed back in his chair, staring at the floor.

The book demanded at least seven wizards work together.

Each had to have a Newts in Defense and at least 8 years of work with younger dragons before even approaching a Nesting one.

And it flat out stated that even so, expect to lose at least two of the involved wizards if something threatened her eggs.

Harry quickly turned to Dobby and asked him to warn the other competitors. This was dangerous! Winning be damned, they had to know, to prepare!

Seeing the elf shuffle in place stopped his words.

Dobby had actually spied on his competition for Harry without asking. Each was already practicing to get past the dragons, to safely handle this tasked. It was how the elf had found out about them to begin with.

And none had tried to warn him.

He tried not to cry. They weren't his friends or anything. It shouldn't have hurt that they didn't care if he lived or died.

But it did.

Harry turned back to the piles of books. It was a new pile, as Dobby constantly replaced books with ones the competitors had examined, that the teachers had seemed interested in, as the small elf tried to find anything to help his 'Bestest Kindest Master Harry Potter Sir' survive the upcoming ideal.

He... just didn't have time. If he could read all this in an instant, he still didn't have time. Learning new spells was hard, and one had to practice them constantly to both do them quickly and with enough power.

The Dragon Harvesting book had several spells that would probably do the job... but required three years to master, and anything under one year might not even be noticed by the dragon. It was part of the extended education all new dragon handlers went through.

Furthermore, all those spells required working with a group, which wasn't allowed.

And even if he somehow pulled them off... well, it was always easier to kill than restrain, so he would have to focus on the more nasty items if anything. He would be called Dark again, not that they weren't doing it now.

Any chance of his friends returning would be shot by that. Not that it seemed they would be returning anyway.

He looked at his clenched fists. So what were his options?

First, he could master an impossibly difficult spell (After guessing exactly which of the four dragons he would face, as some spells wouldn't work on different species). After mastering it, he would have to modify it (Without any skill or practice in spell creation or modification) to be castable alone. Then he would have to use more power than anyone had heard of before to cast that same spell. And yet he would lose his friends, if they even tried to make up later.

So... no.

Second, he could avoid conflict all together. This would require mastering only four or five NEWT level spells (The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests given at graduation). Hard, but maybe doable. One less if he was willing to risk his Invisibility Cloak against a dragon, his most prized possession that used to belong to each Potter through generations. His only item from his father.

He took a steading breath. Yeah, with the cloak he only had to learn how to mute sound, smell, and probably body heat, as Dragons seemed serpent like and might be able to follow that. Even then, he might have to create a distraction so that the creature would move away from the egg, which according to Dobby was the target for them.

The magically resistant, heavily warded egg. It could only really be physically moved, and he probably wasn't strong enough to use magic and hide it.

So Harry, the floating egg, would have to escape a nesting mother. Who hopefully wouldn't just flame the egg once it realizes it ISN'T a dragon egg.

Could he master four or five spells of such listed difficulty at a high enough level to trick a massive creature DESIGNED to consume potentially magical prey?

With a groan he pushed this into the 'Maybe' pile. At least it was... more possible? Maybe?

Third, Over Power, Out Think, or Out Speed the dragon.

No. To be at nesting age these had to be fully mature dragons. Some of which were smart enough to prank their care takers. Of the three, only 'out think' had potential and that was a weak option. And it didn't really have enough details as a plan to cover getting the egg anyway.

Anything else?

Potions? Maybe, but thanks to Snape he couldn't create them to (in this case) save his life. Even then, only something like an over-dose of liquid luck or forcing the dragon to drink Malaclaw Venom to give IT bad luck would accomplish much. There was a potion as part of becoming an Animagus, but turning into an animal was not only time consuming, but it was difficult and would requite better transfiguration skills than he currently possessed.

Plus he would probably turn into a baby deer or something, which would be great for working against the dragon. Just great.

Plants? Well... not likely. Both this and the potion option would likely be expensive too, and he didn't have a lot of funds, having left almost all his gold at the bank the first time he visited.
If he survived this, he would ensure to have funds for emergencies like this. Well, hopefully never like THIS again, but if he needed to order things by owl-order.

Harry sighed. He hadn't had time to visit the owlery in weeks. Nothing but practicing really. If he had known exactly HOW likely his death was, maybe he could have spent that time cuddling with his owl, feeding her treats and trying to enjoy his remaining time.

Heck, if he was going to die anyway, why even show up? Just do what Sirius did and run away to a tropical island for a few months.

Idly he thought about it. He never did get to see the ocean. Or a beach. What would he prefer really, being burned alive while his former school cheered the beast on? The Slytherins would be happy at least.

He blinked. In all his panic and hard work, he never did look up what kind of death came with violating the contract.

A quick conversation with Dobby later and he had a borrowed (stolen) copy of the rules. It was thick, it was dense, but thankfully it was organized. But he was confused, as he didn't actually see the line about death in there.

It took a bit more research and some strange books Dobby said came from a locked room somewhere in the castle and one or two from his old 'Master', Lucius Malfoy. 'Ex-Deatheater' but full-time jerk who had unleashed the giant snake in this castle in second year.

The Goblet of Fire didn't actually kill anyone. If you broke the rules or failed to compete it would simply drain you of all your magic and let you go.

Not its fault that magical creatures like Witches and Wizards die from the shock of suddenly losing the power they grew up with.

He stared at the section in stunned silence.

So death was going to happen if he participated... but he would lose his magic if he didn't. And possibly die from that.

Pulling out his wand, he looked thoughtfully at it. Initially he had loved magic, seeing it as an escape from his 'family'.

That hadn't happened. No matter how he beg or pled he had been shipped back to the Dursley's every year.

He had looked forward to meeting new people, making lots of friends, of not being a 'freak' but just another wizard in the crowd.

Instead he was both vilified and celebrated, idolized and shunned. Just wandering muggle London wearing his current rags felt more comfortable and accepting than being dressed up and trying to walk down Diagon Alley.

He had imagined defending himself from Dudley and his gang, of using his power to protect those close to him and be free.

They had given him strict rules to never use magic without their permission, then sent him back to a home of abuse.

Even now he could feel the potential of magic, he could see the distant dream of him in a small house, whisking his wand to make random changes, maybe with someone there to admire him and... well just to have someone special.

That dream was dead now. Keeping his magic would mean his death. Losing his magic... would hurt. It had made him special, but like everything he loved in life he seemed destined to give it up at some point.

Without magic, if he survived the no doubt colossal public outcry... Well, he would have to run. Head to the bank, get what he could, then just run.

Voldemort would still be hunting him of course, but without magic what chance did Harry have? Well, A chance at least. Better alive and without magic than dead in a dragon. A terrible unlikely chance, but what could one do when given such a rough hand in life?

Dumbledore would likely hunt him down, for political reasons if nothing else. Having the 'Boy who lived' abandon your school, abandon magic, and flee from a tournament he 'entered' himself in would be bad public relations for the Headmaster.

The Ministry had sent Hagrid to a demon filled island just so Minister Fudge could tell people they were 'Doing Something' during second year. AND Lucius was basically bribing the jerk anyway, so he would likely send people after him.

But at this point, it was clear that for him to have any chance, for him to possibly live long enough to even taste life outside these castle walls, he would have to get rid of his magic... before the Goblet of Fire did it for him.

Turning to Dobby with a stony face, he explained his reasoning to the elf, requesting books that could give him options.

Well, at least he had a goal now.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

His new list of notes and ideas was much neater and easy to read. Knowing that no matter what happened he WOULDN'T be fighting a dragon larger than many houses caused a calming effect.

Dobby had reluctantly offered the first option, converting himself into a full Housing Elf rather than the personal elf he currently was acting as.

When an elf was bound as a Housing Elf, the caster had to donate a permanent percentage of their magical ability to said elf. It was an action that most pure-bloods (I have more incest than you, nah nah!) did on their death-bed, and it was why Lucius Malfoy was so furious that Harry had tricked him into freeing Dobby.

Of course, normally that trick wouldn't have worked, it required both the handing of clothes AND the desire to get rid of the bond... but the terrible treatment of Dobby combined with the jerk's mental thought process of "Get this away from me" was enough for magic to let Dobby go... without losing the magic taken from Lucius's Father.

If he had properly dismissed Dobby, he could have forced him to give that magic to the next elf in line, but now Lucius would be required to actually sacrifice some of his power later in life to keep up the number of elves under service to Family Malfoy.

Unfortunately, there were limits on how much Harry could give to Dobby, or his research would have ended right there.

Purebloods tended to give an historical percentage of about 0.002% Harry's Power, though some gave less (Calculating that percentage sucked, by the way). It was why the creatures were so tiny, so old, so wrinkled.., and so powerful. Years of breeding and constant work forced them to become incredibly
efficient with their magic usage, able to do great feats of power with nearly no energy to work with.

So even if Harry wanted to give 100%, it wouldn't work without hurting Dobby. As it was, being able to give 4% to the elf nearly caused the tiny one to pass-out and put the creature under a lot of pain and strain. He somehow called another elf (This one Harry recognized as 'Winky'), who according to Dobby was willing to help organize elves to take care of Harry and Dobby until the tournament, if he were to bond her as well.

When he offered to give her the same percentage of magic, she gaped in shock before breaking in to tears. Apparently the concept just overwhelmed the girl. She eventually agreed after being convinced by Dobby, who privately told Harry that giving this much power to two elves was not just unprecedented, but a sign of true trust and honor between the three of them.

Harry only got away with this because Winky and Dobby had gotten into a long term relationship earlier in the year, and Dobby had apparently promised to get them both into the same family (Elf equivalent to a proposal). Him bonding her counted as her marriage, and the high percentage given not only blew away most existing records but in house elf society made them something close to celebrities, almost royalty.

He sighed. The other elves that had volunteered to take care of the two kept calling them The-Trusted-Dobby and The-Trusted-Winky, and it all was getting a bit creepy. But in the end, he was down to only 92% of his original power and unlike everything else he researched, this method actually hadn't hurt at all. Elves were VERY power efficient after all, and with his 2000% increased power level, Dobby could probably handle most wizards or witches with VERY little issue... if they were able to attack. Defense was hard enough for them.

At least he would be protected very well.

Still Harry went through the long list of rituals. And rituals it would have to be... the potions used for draining power were designed to be painful and damaging, as they were inflicted on enemies and criminals.

At least most rituals had some positive benefit to the caster. Not only that, but most didn't restrict the sacrifice from being the target of said benefit as well. It was a bizarre idea, after all.

The table to his right was covered in rejections. Anything designed to torture or injure the sacrifice (other than magic loss) was right out. That said, to most dark wizards or witches they would PREFER being horribly maimed than lose their magic, so the evil jerks came up with all kinds of rituals that would leave their victim 'Alive to bask in their defeat' as the most recent book claimed. Said book being bound in human skin was a disturbing trend that he had gotten used to.

After all, there was (normally) no scenario in which stripping much or all the power from a wizard or witch would be considered light magic.

Also in the reject pile was any ritual that involved multiple sacrifices, rape, multiple participants, or certain ingredients (Babies, rare plants or animals, etc).

The fact he had so many left to choose from was both slightly comforting and disturbing. After another day (And a couple of very delicious meal delivered by a young elf named 'Carden') he finally had a list of rituals copied to individual parchments, which he began to sort.

Three to 'Unlock the powers that doth flow within", which had to be tossed. It basically let you absorb a small percentage of the stolen magic... which was counter-productive in this case.

Two which 'Enhanced the Body, repair the soul', meant for use after heavy dark magic use to prevent one from becoming sterile, to reduce/prevent/repair damage from dark magic, and to purify the soul (As even dark wizards didn't want to be forced into evil deeds... they wished to ENJOY them).

Obviously he was approaching them with a bit of skepticism, but he remembered that Professor Dumbledore had talked about how Tom Riddle (AKA Lord Voldemort, AKA Jerk-who-should-stay dead, etc) had left some of his abilities in him the night his parents died.

That had always creeped him out, so the idea of being purified appealed to him. Also the largest negative side-effect of the ritual would be negated thanks to him being both the benefiter and the victim. Originally the fears, angers, and other such emotional baggage would taint the ritual (Which the original designer found wonderful), and due to them being foreign emotions it could cause instability (As seen toward the end of the book where the writer was randomly writing bizarre comments, and whom was later remarked on by his student... who had slaughtered the author and left a
nice note about the experience).

The author's apprentice had found that if he took the time to either cause brain death in the victim or replace all their memories with a copy of himself, that he got rid of the issue nicely... and Harry already had his own memories.

Anyway, those two rituals would cost 2% or less for the physical enhancement and 12% or less for the cleansing.

Obviously that wasn't explicitly stated, Harry had to interpret the large number of test cases written in the book, figure out roughly how they measured power units, convert it... he hadn't done this much math in years.

It would take around 2% of Harry's reserves, which he was rapidly realizing was much, MUCH higher than the people being experiment in the book. What was 2% for him was over 80% for those victims, obviously higher or lower per victim. The cleansing had required around 7 people to sacrifice, which is why the emotional conflict caused such issues for the original author.

However both rituals had caveats, that occasionally it required more or less magic than expected depending on the severity of the changes, As Harry had years of damage and abuse to repair, he hoped this would get rid of the majority of his energy and reduce how many of these disgusting rituals he had to go through.

So those two would be first, followed by some of the other one's Harry had found depending on how much energy was left to him.

Moving over to the elves in their temporary bed (And wow, that had been a long argument to get them to lay down), Harry moved to Dobby. "Dobby, I'm going to get started on some of the rituals to get rid of my magic now... will you two be alright? Will it cause any problems with the bond if I get rid of it all?"

Dobby responded just as quietly as to not bother Winky. "Dobby thinks no. We has more power than needed for many many elves, and as we are Housing Elves we will always know those of your house, even if they's not be magic."

He looked up at Harry seriously. "Our's body still be changing because of much magic given. We serve not from requirement, but from gratitude, and the bond will only grant us information from you at this point. When changing done, we be's much strong, smarter... Great Master Harry Potter Sir will be very impressed."

Harry gave a weak grin. "I'm glad it won't be an issue. And... if I..." He looked away. "If I don't make it, either from the goblet or one of the rituals.., could you take care of me?"

Dobby gave a solemn nod. "Housing elves take cares of their families. Dobby will rest Great Master Harry Potter Sir with his parents when time comes." His large eyes took a surprisingly hard tone as he observed Harry. "But that time has not yet come."

The boy's smile was slightly more genuine now. "Of course, Dobby. I've got... many things to do before then. Right?"

The tiny head nodded. "Many things, Great Master Harry Potter Sir."

Harry's smile faded. "You're going to keep calling me that, aren't you?"

Dobby tried to whistle, but gave up. "Dobby doesn't know what Great Master Harry James Potter Sir's mind is telling Great Master Harry James Potter Sir.

He blinked. "You made it longer!"

Dobby snapped his fingers. "Dobby knows Great Master Harry James Potter Sir's very busy, maybe check this book next?"

It was the first time Harry had laughed in a month, and it felt great.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

First step in the two rituals involved stealing from Snape ("Professor Snape Harry!"... He wished she was helping in this.)

Since Dobby was recovering, and Harry didn't want to spend too long getting ready, he asked one of the other helper castle elves to get some potions from the Potion Professor's personal stores.

After finding out that all castle elves could get past every one of Snape's traps and such, well...

Long story short, there was now two extra tables in the Chamber, one covered in potions and the other covered in preserved potion ingredients.

He also requested Snape's shoes. All of them.

For ritual reasons.

Really.

Anyway, he now had multiple doses of blood replenishment potions, and after a numbing charm and careful collection of his blood (Elf-healed nearly instantly afterwards, they could handle small cuts and so forth), he now had most of what the body repair ritual called for.

Well, according to the student. Apparently the Dark Lord who wrote the book had all kinds of specially cleansed skulls and it had to be done on certain days and nights, and involved powdered rubies and all kinds of things.

The apprentice was in a hurry to use the ritual shortly after his master's tragic 'stabbed 33 times' accident, so skipped almost all of it... and found out it worked BETTER.

Turns out that the author had just kept adding things that felt dramatic and evil enough so future readers would think how smart he was to figure out all those complicated steps and be amazed at how he collected all those bizarre ingredients (The tears of despair from a crocodile? Really?) and so forth.

What took the author 2 months and lots of money to accomplish, his apprentice handled in one hour of set up, five minutes of casting, and seven hours of recovery.

So yeah, Harry was following the second option. It was mostly just a huge circle, a smaller circle to designate the target, and a series of complicated shapes written in blood within both.

Moving the outer, smaller circle into the larger one cause zero issues, thankfully. Aside from getting nude to ensure nothing strange altered the outcome of the thing, there was one additional requirement that normally would have taken some time and trouble to obtain for anyone who hadn't lived the life that Harry had. A strong poison or venom, the stronger the better.

Thus Harry gathered some Basilisk Venom, to be poured into a carved bone bowl placed near the 'victim'. The Castle had several variations of said bowl for some reason, of many bone types. Old traditions were odd and the school used to teach rituals as a class after all. There was a huge second ritual Harry was supposed to take first to prevent the caster from dying when the chosen venom 'burned the weakness away' using the power from the sacrifice.

Thankfully, the provided detection spell treated Harry's "I got bitten by ultimate poison but thanks to a bird I got better" as at the very least an upgraded form of that complicated ritual.., so he got to skip it.

As he lay nude, glasses back on the table, encircled by his own blood and a bone bowl of poison just above his head surrounded by more blood markings... Harry wondered if anyone else had days like these.

Then his hand hit the empowering rune and the world went dark.

Unknown to him, his body locked down thanks to the outer ring of the circle, he had missed something.

The amount of poison Harry provided to the ritual was unusual. Not only was the venom over 1000 years old, but the amount available and provided was very large. Most users of this ritual could only gather a dozen or so drops of something equivalent, not the near gallon and a half Harry had provided.

Furthermore he using the blood of the victim (Which enhanced the process), AND the blood of the caster (Enhanced it again). Also, said blood contained both that same Basilisk Venom, enhancing the destructive power of the cleansing, as well as freely given phoenix tears, enhancing the recovery power of the ritual.

That the two polar opposite substances had been fighting for months at this point in the 'victims' body simply meant that both elements had slowly refined themselves, increasing their potency, as they strove for dominance in the boy's blood.

Even as his body constantly broke and rebuilt, the ritual itself began interpreting the situation itself as if it was a broken process that needed repair... and suddenly everything froze. Harry's body had been slightly modified... and now produced in his blood both tears and venom. Naturally.

Instead of his cells constantly dying and being reborn as it had been for almost two years, now the venom interacted with the boy's lowering magic to determine harmful substances, cancerous cells, debilitating potions... and destroyed them.

Instead of the tears attempting to heal and then evaporate, they now searched out damage and repaired it on a cellular level, infusing the newly created cells forcing them to maximum potential and healthiness.

His body had basically used the ongoing ritual as a template of a natural process, then duplicated it internally. Unless changed, his body naturally assumed that this constant cleansing and healing process was not only normal, but expected.

And while his limbs broke, realigned the shards, and healed them rapidly, his scar was going through a different process.

If it had still contained a soul shard from Voldemort, it would have been cleansed, disconnected, and removed from the body.

As it only contained benevolent energy from someone between reality, it was instead healed down to a near invisible scar instead of the angry inflamed mark from before, and was being integrated directly with Harry's existing soul.

After all, the new energy was not connected with anyone anymore, had there was no personality or desire to resist the process. There was also no ill-intent to trigger Harry's defenses like his old scar did.

Even as the ritual slowly burned itself out, the boy's changes continued. The large meals he had eaten recently were consumed by magic instead of his stomach, and used to directly enhance and strengthen muscles, bones, organs. His eyes, hidden away by his close eyelids, reshaped slightly to see without glasses, while his lungs began to clear and breathe easier.

It would take almost a whole two days before he woke up and began to panic at the lost time, before he panicked more.

It hadn't worked.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

Numbly Harry looked at his current magical level, using a spell that had been taking constant measurements during the ritual for later review.

He had spent away 34% of his power for the ritual (Which was good, way higher than the 2% expected.)

However, aside from how awkward he was now that his body was healthy (And hungry, he had eaten at near Ron levels for almost two hours after waking up), his new and improved body had apparently repaired issues with his magic levels as well.

He had in total, even counting the amount of power spent, gained 24% from the ritual. Starting from his original 100%, he had gotten it down to 58% before his recovered body had enhanced that up to 142% compared to the start.

It was worse than doing nothing.

Not that he hated being able to see perfectly, or hear really well, or how easy it was to move and breathe and feel magic around him.

But he had lost a lot of time (Basically two days' worth) and had ended up taking giant steps backwards.

He couldn't risk doing the second, more expensive ritual. Sure it may use up his power, but the risk of a cleansed, more enhanced body boosting his magic again was too high.

Now however, half the rituals to choose from were not usable. They took too long, now that he had to get rid of even MORE energy, so he had to focus on the most expensive rituals for now.

Rapidly he went through the lists and sorted them based on percentage. With 142% to lose, he had to find rituals that were fast to set up with massive required sacrifice levels (Rare, most Dark Lords or Ladies tend to focus on slow build up apparently, but he couldn't risk trying to shortcut those rituals like the snarky apprentice had).

His hand paused on one in particular. This particular one had seemed perfect, but he had avoided it due to how vague it was. Very simple to set up, any amount of magic could be committed to it.

The difference was this spell was meant to be used by the caster instead of a sacrifice.

It was an offering. The larger given, the larger possibility for something to happen. What one got depended on how much magic was given away, who it was donated to, and based on the hope that the creatures contacted this way wouldn't just... squish you.

Squishing was a real concern.

The more power put into it, the higher the 'request' is sent. And from what little he had translated (It wasn't in a foreign language, but it was written in English a long time ago by someone who was proud to have never completed a formal education), most people who did this ritual had interesting results.

Half of them simply had no response, and lost however much power they offered.

Of the remaining percentage, most got low gifts. The ability to see underwater from the surface, able to talk to goats, all kinds of random abilities. Apparently his snake talking skill, Parseltongue, was one such ability.

But those who had offered the most, ranging from 10% to 40% of their power (More math to figure those numbers out, it was between 0.25% to 1% of his magic) had the most significant and extreme reactions.

One would gain control of all wind, another had been turned inside out. One person gained complete control of his body to the smallest level, another gained unending flatulence. Massively explosive flatulence.

All the records agreed that the more magic permanently offered, the more drastic the reward or punishment.

Again, Harry looked at his options. This ritual, while most risky, was at least doable with a day or two to spare before the first task of the tournament in the worst case. If he tried any others, the most doable (With no time to rest or eat) would be four of the smallest rituals, and they wouldn't drain enough magic away. Not at his new power level.

With a quiet sigh, he squared his shoulders. His whole life had been a series of situations, ones where he had to do the best he could and hope for better options next time.

But impossible was what his life was built from, so damn it all he would do the impossible one more time.

Casting an eye at his most treasured item, the book of photos showing people who probably loved him when they had been alive, he sighed. Sirius had never responded to his later letters, whether that was due to distance, him traveling, or them being intercepted he couldn't know. He also wished he had time to say good bye just in case to his former friends, or at least Hermione. Ron had burnt his bridge very thoroughly, but Hermione had tried to talk a few times before the angry red head had interrupted. Dobby even said she had been in the library recently, which implied she was trying to help him in some way... or at least researching the situation.

If he survived this, he would try talking to her again. And if not, he would pretend that she still cared for him anyway.

Morbid as it may be, the thought that she would join Dobby and Winky at his funeral if they had to bury him made him feel a bit better. He hadn't really had a chance to spend time with Sirius Black before the man had to run, and the man's supposed best friend Remus 'Moony' Lupin had cut all ties with Harry at the end of third year.

But if she showed up, maybe with a few others...

Well, he could pretend at least.

Moving to the large space, he rapidly cast multiple clearing charms. The ritual was fairly complex, had to be written in his blood, and required sacrificing three material things of importance to the caster.

It was going to hurt emotionally, but he knew his mom and dad would have wanted a living child rather than a dead one with mementos.

Even as he carefully moved his own preserved blood into complicated shapes, he avoid looking at the three objects he was going to sacrifice.

His wand, His father's invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map.

The map was treasured less due to how recently he had received it, the fact that the traitor Peter 'Wormtail' Pettigrew had helped make it, and because no matter how this ended up he would not be returning to Hogwarts to use it.

His wand would be missed, as it symbolized many secret and special dreams he had of being strong, of going on trips of adventure, of living a long, possibly loved life.

The cloak however.., the ability to be unseen was precious to the boy celebrity, stalked everywhere.

The many memories of it helping him survive school. The rarity of the object itself, so few ever even getting to touch one, as most cost much to make and wore out in only a few years.

Most of all, the fact that it had been owned and treasured by his dad, a man he would never get to meet. That according to Sirius, it had been owned and treasured by his grandfather, who he never even saw a picture of. And his great-grandfather, and so on and so forth.

It was the legacy of the Potter Clan, the Family Potter, and even if he survived today he would never get the opportunity to pass it on to his son.

If he ever had a chance to have a child.

It was his greatest treasure, it was his most priceless possession.

And he was going to offer it up in an attempt to survive. To one day have a loved one.

His father died for him and his mom. His mom died for his life. His godfather had gone mad with rage, and yet had given up revenge on the man who sent him to hell because his godson asked him to.

Compared to their sacrifices, losing a possession seemed small in comparison.

Having completed the first stage of rune-work (Not very complicated compared to the previous ritual, most Dark Wizards and Witches were low on patience and focused on fighting rather than nitty gritty ritual stuff), he carefully placed each item within the three circles, and knelt within the larger triangle.

This one didn't require a special activation spell or complicated measuring runes.

This ritual simply required that you offer up raw power... and handle the suffering involved until you wish to stop.

You only got one shot. Many users had accidentally wasted both their chance and their treasured items due to being surprised by the pain level. The ritual prevented numbing charms, alcohol, blunt trauma, sleeping, stunning... you were going to be awake, be in pain, and not even be allowed to die from magic withdrawal. It would stop any time you wanted to, never to work again.

You had to wish for this on a fundamental level, the offering had to be both genuine and heartfelt, and the pain was part of the 'approval' process.

Harry placed both hands on the two outer circles, containing his wand and the map. He rested his forehead on the middle circle, containing the cleaned, folded Invisibility cloak. Gathering up his power like a child collecting flowers, he slowly pushed his power down through his legs and arms until he felt the circle suddenly activate, dozens of glittering red runes shining around him.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

In the library of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger was surrounded by books. Worried about her friend, she had done the only thing she could and buried herself in research.

The last few weeks had been horrible. After the whole flare up between Ron and Harry, she had been frightened enough to run from the situation. When she had calmed down and went to apologize... Harry had been gone.

And no one had seen him since.

Running out of ideas of where to find him, she began leaving notes on his bed, hoping he would stop by at some point.

When she found them gone but with no response, she worried that Harry was furious with her.

At least she had been, until yesterday when she found out that Ron had found them and had been tossing them. The argument they had held had been both epic in scope and in volume, and she had found that Ron thought that Harry and her had been... that they... well, yeah. Teenager stuff.

Of course, if he had READ any of those notes, he would have clearly seen it was nothing but a series of "I'm sorry, please talk to me" comments. Prat.

Hedwig was sympathetic, but couldn't deliver mail to him. She still snuck up to the owlery each night just in case, to give the owl treats and keep her company a bit.

Knowing Harry, he was probably working his bum off trying to get ready and she wasn't able to help!
She had written dozens of guides, lists, help charts... and as time got shorter and shorter she would remake them from scratch, ready to help out the moment he showed up.

And he didn't.

Her hands shook and she quickly crossed her arms. He had done amazing things without her, he could do this. He did kill that Basilisk (And hadn't THAT taken a long time to get him to talk about), he had fought an army of soul-sucking demons.

She glanced at her rapidly dwindling list of ideas. Without knowing what Harry had been practicing it would be tough to help, but some items should be fine. She had gotten a copy of the rules from Cedric Diggory ('Hogwart's Champion', supposedly. Still, he was a Hufflepuff, thus loved fair play) and had determined exactly how little Harry had to do to be considered 'Participating'. And after finding out that he had to get something from a DRAGON of all things, she had made sure to calculate exactly how little he really had to do.

Basically if she could teach him the summoning charm, he could simply cast it over and over. If it worked, great, if it didn't then oh well. Constant spell work would satisfy the Goblet that not only is he competing but that he was working HARDER than the other champions.

Wouldn't help his score, and obviously doing the same action expecting different results is a sign of insanity, but he would ALIVE. Who cared what everyone else thought, even his bloody Quidditch teammates didn't seem worried that he wasn't showing up to classes.

She was currently using what little Arithmomancy she had learned so far to determine if Harry could get away with doing the levitation charm instead (Even Ron of all people learned that one in first year) when she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Color seemed to fade away. Sound was dampened. She felt light headed. A dull ringing? Some distant hum?

Her arms fell to the table, trying to support her suddenly increased weight as a ringing pulsed.

As the sound increased, she felt her blood run cold.

That was screaming.

As the pained voice escalated, she felt her gut drop.

That was Harry.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

His body was locked to the three rings and the triangle.

His right hand and his Map caught on fire and burned. Yet his hand continued to exist.

His left hand and his wand melted into a red liquid, only for his hand to reform and melt again.

His forehead was locked onto the circle with his invisibility cloak, his eyes forced to remain open, as he watched his precious item slowly dissolve, thread by thread.

His teeth were no longer clenched, for he must scream.

His muscles tensed and tore themselves, forcing regrowth and strengthening. Only his new regeneration made it this bearable.

And beyond this, as these things faded into the background, was the pain.

It had started in his scar, strangely enough. More and more of his power flowed through his body, up to his oldest wound, and escaped out of his scar and into the ritual rings. As his green power glowed around his pain-wrecked body, it flowed through him, escaping his forehead as a golden mist instantly pulled into the ritual.

When this had started he had imagined himself being stoic during the situation. He did after all have years of handling injury without the assistance of pain medication or potions. And while he was unaware of it, he had lasted an entire 7 minutes without one grunt of pain or twinge of anguish.

Boiling blood and braised bones had become his companions as he silently felt the ritual reach out.

Beings of every origin, size, and temperament were touched, then passed. At one point it had felt like a being was chosen for the ritual, like the next step would occur.

This his scar had torn open again, the energy went golden, and the ritual turned to something deeper, something beyond his understanding. It had connected to something with no mind, with no guidance... to something that was already somehow connected to Harry James Potter.

And the ritual had changed.

He could no longer cancel it. To his own shame, he had initially tried to pull away once he realized he was sacrificing almost everything of value in his life to nobody. That he was enduring torture beyond anything he had experienced before for no reason.

Harry had done everything correctly, surprisingly enough.

The runes were correct, where any one mistake would have caused a massive explosion or worse due to how much power was involved. The blood was purified during his previous ritual, bound to his soul, and now naturally produced two intensive magical substances.

His sacrifices were not only significant to him emotionally but represented the past (The Marauder's Map, made by his father and his dad's betrayer), the present (His wand, a direct connection to magic that chose the wizard itself), and the future (The Invisibility Cloak, to be handed to the children of his line).

All three were involved with death and his family, as the betrayer gave his father's family location to Voldemort, the wand contained the brother feather to Voldemort's wand, and the cloak was unknowingly a brother to Voldemort's unacknowledged Resurrection Stone.

Indeed, everything had been done using the highest quality level of materials, powered with pure determination, and taking place within a hidden chamber designed and constructed especially for dark rituals like these by Salazar Slytherin himself. This same ritual room had been unused for years and slowly charged up energy while under a powerful school filled with constant magic use, one that had been a battle ground between the previous 'Heir of Slytherin' and Harry Potter himself.

One that Harry had claimed as a residence, that he had spent weeks casting only his magic in (Or the magic of those bound to him). The room was deeply connected to Harry at this point.

And most daunting of all, the primary item Harry had tried to offer up, the Invisibility Cloak, was not made by man.

Death itself watched the boy suffer. The ritual involved marked portions forbidding him from interfering, at least not until the 'offering' was done. And some part of it felt sorrow for the child, as death was not something to be avoided but an end that must come to all at some time. Well, almost all. Death straightened his suit and moved on.

The ritual was constantly draining both Harry's magic as expected, but also a small portion of Death's power as well. For the Cloak of Invisibility was a portion of Death's cloak. One without end or beginning.

And the only being that currently could be targeted due to that cloak, was one without the binding or fate of death.

Thus the ritual turned upon the scar's connection to what used to be B.O.B.'s power.

Unfortunately said power was already programmed to make changes over time to the boy, slow painless changes.

So the ritual modified itself. Magic was absorbed from the earth, the air, the castle itself. Two tables, covered in potions and rare, powerful ingredients were decomposed and pulled into the mess.

Harry's scar melded into his skull, and began to spread markings through his bones, etching runes and symbols redundantly throughout his system.

His muscles hurt as three-dimensional shapes were carved into them, replacing normal meat with genetic changes allowing and enforcing new rules into being. Thankfully there were no nerves in his organs, as they too were carved and mutilated with seals and runes. Absently, Harry could smell a soft burning.

Even as his magical potential was drained away, this new power forced itself into place. Changes were happening beyond visible range, connecting parts and portions of his flesh and soul to the space between realities. Bonds were broken, connections to fate rewritten. Unknown to both the boy AND to his manipulative Headmaster, over three dozen prophecies suddenly went dark in the Ministry of Magic, most of whom no one knew who they referred to.

On the stone below the child, runes continued to expand and grow, thin layers of actual crystals forming and spreading both flat on the surface and curling into the air. Layers would pulse and glow, shiver and change.

And through it all, echoing in the dark, Harry Potter screamed.

Dobby and Winky were unable to help, as while their magic was untouched the sheer power invading the chamber forced them to their bed. Thankfully, the ritual did not try to drain them like it was currently draining the school and those within, possibly due to them having a strong unbroken bond with their Master. Their helper elves though had fled and vanished, feeling the ritual try to grip their magic as well and fleeing for safety.

No permanent damage should occur to those living above in the castle, the rock and distance limiting how much power could be pulled from the innocent children above, but the castle's ward stone was close enough that it was being drained into the boy as well. Thankfully some long ignored runic section's in the stone's defensive procedures activated, manually disabling most of the changes done to the ward stone over time and shoving itself into magical stasis, trying to outlast what it thought was a magical extinction level event.

Hundreds of modifications to the wards instantly failed. Suddenly years of holes, of ward conflicts, of 'security exceptions', of spying networks... all gone. Private ward schemes failed, and the modifications that allowed them were gone. For the first time in over several hundred years, the school was set back to 'Pre-War' footing, as it detected and disabled 'dangerous' artifacts and potions throughout the castle.

Thousands of Galleons in value vanished as cursed weapons were cleansed. While potions were allowed to remain, any added to food within the Great Hall would glow red warning the consumer. Cursed items including red 'Howler' letters would be redirected to the 'Examination Room' (Unfortunately, that area had been appropriated by previous Headmasters as a bedroom).

Dozens of low level curses were broken. Two high level curses were heavily weakened, and would likely break in a few years, allowing Ghosts to pass on if desired instead of forced into servitude and allowing Defense Instructors to last longer than one year. And throughout the school, many trick stairs repaired themselves, fake doors vanished, and multiple closed secret passages unlocked and reset.

All those benefits would normally had been applauded, had not most of the wards dropped due to the ward stone hitting stasis, causing additional mass chaos.

Harry's body shuddered before his skin began to pale further. His hair darkened to a level so black that light seemed drawn to it, his eyes if not clenched in agony would be sharp green gems. Along his spine his skin began to blacken into unknown symbols and shapes, his body pigments etching runes and seals along this final surface. Thankfully the tiny black shapes faded color into the surrounding white skin-tone as they etched their way from his spine down his body and limbs.

As the last of his surface gained near-invisible markings, leaving only a vein like series of black shapes on his spine, the last rune surrounded his golden scar.

Silence fell like an axe, and the boy collapsed like a corpse.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

While a barely breathing child deep underground was being carefully cared for by house elves, Hermione was close to losing her mind.

She had finally determined that Harry HAD to be in the Chamber of Secrets.

Like before, she had gathered information from everyone she could and determined that the people who could hear the... noises... best were those who had been near pipes, which immediately brought to mind that mess from second year with a giant snake, possessed literature, and a kidnapped redhead.

Rapidly she had examined the story and had ran to 'Moaning Myrtle' and her bathroom. After finding out from the ghost that Harry HAD gone down there she had been faced with a pretty tough puzzle: How to open a secret passage when it needed a magical language she couldn't speak to open.

Blowing it open wouldn't work, said passages didn't exist at all unless you opened them correctly.

Blasting away the sink would just expose stone flooring, maybe some tiny pipes.

Her attempts delivered nothing but failures. Summon a snake using that spell Malfoy had used back in second year, use confuse on it, use a compulsion on it to say 'open'... and the snake couldn't understand her compulsion. Literally she got a sense of "Wha?" from the stupid thing before she vanished it and created another.

Technically the Imperious was only illegal against wizards and witches, just heavily fined against non-magical people, and barely fined at all for animals in general.

So... using it on a snake would be fine. Right?

A few minutes later, feeling a massive amount of guilt and a large amount of failure, she gave up. It took a dozen tries before it worked on the snake, and then she had been in its mind! She could control its movement, force it to relax or pretend to bite. But when she tried to make it say 'Open' it had just made random noises.

Random noises in Parseltongue, but random. Apparently it could understand that she wanted it to speak, but it didn't know what to say since she (Once again) couldn't speak Parseltongue... not aloud nor mentally.

A vanished snake later and she began rapidly casting random spells from recent classes.., no reason to let everyone know what she had tried if they checked her wand. If she had been less stressed about Harry, she would have likely fallen to pieces have cast an 'unforgivable' spell, even if she had followed the laws as written.

But after hearing those screams, she was focused only on finding her friend.

Rapidly she thought through more extreme measures. A timed shrinking charm plus a conjured container? Go down the sink drain or get flushed maybe? No, not reliable and likely to just kill her. Self-Transfiguration? If she WAS a snake she could just say the words herself. Unless she would just end up as an English speaking snake. No, she wasn't close to that level of casting yet anyway.

A rapid listing of associates and friends and she was out of options. Maybe the Twins, but they had full oversight of the castle with Harry's map and still hadn't found the chamber back in second year.

Tell a teacher? She neatly snorted. Yeah, her authority worship was pretty much annihilated thanks to their actions during this travesty.

If only she knew apparition, she could just teleport down there... if she had been there before. Which she hadn't.

Besides, no one can apparate in Hogwarts.

Suddenly a stray thought went through her head. That... that wasn't quite true, was it? After all, Harry had told her how that house elf, Dimby or something, had popped around all over the place trying to save his life second year.

She ran back to the Library. She still had time for some quick research. Not only did she need to know more about how house elves transported around, but how one could find one in a hurry. Thankfully classes were canceled due to the conflicts going on.

Hermione would have regretted have to skip class for this. Oh, she would have still done so.

Harry was her friend after all, and she would help.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

He didn't know how long it has been.

He didn't know where he was. It was softer than the stone floor.

Every breath was as slow as possible, as delayed as he could stand it.

Movement hurt.

His eyes were closed. If he could, he would cover them more.

Seeing hurt.

Someone moved a sheet over his body. Only the agony of screaming, the pain of movement, kept him still.

Trying to express pain hurt.

His center, a warmth he always had and never recognized, never felt, didn't notice till it was gone.

It was cold.

Yet it was warming. Slowly. From the outside in, his core felt like a pillar of ice that he was trying to melt with his mind alone.

Something in his mind pinged.

Installation Complete. Please Reboot.

Everything went dark again.

~~~Unlimited Gamer~~~

It was later. His body... felt fine. Shocked, his eyes slammed open.

He was in a bed. And there was no pain.

Again, he felt something ping in his mind, when a blue box with white borders appeared.

Welcome gamer! Version 0.0001 of 'Gamer' has been Unlocked!
Would you like to view the tutorials? (Yes I No)

Harry blinked. Well... huh.