Chapter 13

Milo grinned. He loved this school already.

"I can't believe Quidditch is restricted to second years," Ron complained.

"What's Quidditch?" Harry, Hermione, and Milo asked simultaneously. Ron fainted into his pudding. Once he came around, he described the rules. It was some unbelievably dangerous-sounding sport (two of the players' jobs were to send heavy leather balls flying at the opposing team!) played on broomstick. As Ron explained about the Golden Snitch, Milo considered it thoughtfully. From what he could tell, the Seeker's success or failure completely invalidated everything that the other players did. It was as if the sport was set up entirely to give Seekers a backdrop to compete against.

"I like it!" Milo said. "It has everything. Magic, danger, and rules blatantly skewed for the PCs to shine. Harry, make sure to write this down." The Boy-Who-Lived dutifully added it to his growing list of plot-relevant items.

"I think it sounds stupid," Hermione declared, ignoring Ron's protests. "And way too dangerous to be allowed in a school setting. Flying in general sounds dreadful."

Dumbledore sent them all to bed, so Percy—as Gryffindor prefect—led the first years to their lair. En route, they were attacked by Peeves.

"Peeves! Show yourself!" Percy bellowed. "He's a poltergeist—be careful, he only answers to the Bloody Baron. That's the Slytherin ghost."

"Getting all this, Harry?" Milo asked. Peeves flew past, throwing sticks at Neville's head. "Prefect, that was an attack if I've ever seen one. Permission to retaliate?"

"Now, I don't think that will be necessary. He knows that if he goes too far, I'll tell the Baron," Percy said. "Besides—" Percy was interrupted, however, when Peeves unloaded a bucket of water on the prefect's head. "Hit him with everything you've got, Mr. Amastacia-Liadon. Everything."

"Glitterdust!" Milo shouted, the shower of sparks blinding the poltergeist for twenty-four seconds, now (level-ups were the greatest), and preventing him from turning invisible. Peeves, whirling in astonished fury, began dropping walking sticks, pies, and associated other miscellany on the students. "Feather Fall!" Milo cast, slowing their descent to a harmless speed. As a coup de grace, once the blindness wore off, then created a Silent Image of the Bloody Baron slowly drifting around the corner. Peeves bolted, leaving a trail of glittering dust in his wake.

"Well done!" Percy congratulated him, after using a Cleaning Charm to dry himself off. "Is everyone alright? Excellent. That was Peeves the Poltergeist, if you encounter him in the halls, it's best to find a member of the faculty or the Bloody Baron. He won't hurt deliberately hurt you—though his pranks can at times get out of hand—but he's irritating, and might make you late for class. After decades of certain disreputable Hogwarts students using Peeves as an pretext for tardiness, teachers have stopped accepting run-ins with the poltergeist as an excuse."

Milo couldn't believe they had random encounter within the castle walls. This school was awesome. Percy led them, finally, to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was guarded by a painting requiring a password. Milo hadn't realized that inter-house rivalry was quite so… heated… as to require secret bases and passwords, but it fit with his general theory of Hogwarts education.

Both Harry and Milo felt at home immediately upon entering Gryffindor tower, but for different reasons. Harry was overwhelmed at all of the magic and wonder, and glad to finally be rid of his abusive foster parents. The sense of camaraderie in the dorm was something new and amazing to him. Milo, on the other hand, felt the calling of all wizards everywhere, regardless of universe: wizard=tower, tower=wizard. He was excited for tomorrow, when he could fully enjoy the benefits of being fourth level, and memorize a whole slew of new spells. He decided, after a bit of thought, to add Levitate and Invisibility to his repertoire. He made sure to prepare an extra Silent Image in case of another run-in with Peeves.

The next morning was… interesting. Word had spread that the famous Harry Potter was attending school, and Milo's unfortunate friend was pestered with constant whispering and glances. Milo suggested that he borrow some makeup from Hannah (Hermione didn't seem the type) and hide the tell-tale scar (minor details only gave +5 to Disguise checks), but Harry adamantly refused, claiming it was the only reminder he had of his parents. Ron howled with laughter at the suggestion, adding that some eyeliner or, as he put it, "guyliner," would really bring out Harry's emerald eyes.

Their first class was Herbology, which Milo figured was safe enough. He was a bit concerned that learning about plants meant he might be obliged to invest Skill Ranks in Knowledge (Nature), or, Vecna forbid, Survival, but after clarifying that it was magical herbs they were studying, Milo was quite convinced his Knowledge (Arcana) would be up to the task. History of Magic was likewise no trouble at all, Milo spent the class trying to figure out what his immediate response would be when the ghost of Professor Binns invariably snapped and starting draining the students' Constitution scores, or when an evil Cleric showed up and seized control of the undead Professor with Command Undead.

Professor Flitwick apparently taught Charms, which was a problem for Milo. As a specialized Conjurer, he was obliged to drop two schools of magic—he chose Necromancy (he didn't look good in pale make-up and mascara) and Enchantment (he was uncomfortable about mentally controlling people). The Charms subschool fell neatly into the second category of spells, which Milo was forbidden from casting. Fortunately, the excitable professor, who Milo was convinced was some sort of deformed gnome, fainted dead away when he called Harry Potter's name while taking attendance.

"What have we got next?" Milo asked Ron.

"Uhh, let me check," the redhead said, patting his pockets for his schedule. "Transfiguration with McGonagall. I hear she's really strict."

"Transfiguration, eh? That… might be a problem," Milo frowned. That would involve, presumably, performing actual magic with a wand—something Milo hadn't even tried to do. He was worried that if he actually succeeded, he might wind up as a multi-classed Wizard/"wizard," and be doomed to spend the rest of his days as a walking joke of a character.

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