Harry Potter Dota: The Wardmaster

 
Welcome to the first chapter of our ongoing series, which answers the question: In Harry Potter, what if instead of magic, it’s Dota 2?

—————-

The Dursley Residence

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuhoooooooooooooooo.

Dudley jerked awake.

“Is that a battle horn?” he asked.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you — I’m armed!”

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

A giant of a man exploded through the door as if pushed by an invisible force. His face was almost completely hidden by enormous, opaque sunglasses — despite it being night outside — and a large unkempt mustache.

The giant brushed what remained of the door off himself and turned to look at them all.

“No food? What the fuck?”

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

“Move, asshole,” said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

“That child…” said the giant, who paused to smooth splinters of the door from his sideburns, “…is very fat.”

Harry looked up and noticed that the giant’s mouth was crinkled in a goofy smile.

“You’re bigger,” said the giant. “You look like your dad, but your eyes, they’re from…”

The giant put an arm around Harry and turned his head as if mugging for an invisible camera.

“… your mom.”

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise and gripped his rifle tightly.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Shut up dude,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the rifle out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, and casually disassembled the weapon, its component parts clattering on the ground along with a brown parchment that read “gun.”

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

“Harry,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “Happy birthday.”

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a miniature treasure chest. Harry tried to open it with trembling fingers, but it wouldn’t open.

The giant stared at him. “You need to buy a key to open that, dumbass.”

Harry looked up at the giant. “Who are you?”

The giant chuckled.

“I’m Professor Ghannam.”

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry’s whole arm.

“I teach noobs how to take care of their couriers,” he said, smiling. “You can call me Mike.”

His face then turned serious, and he looked at the Dursleys. “‘ixMike’ to you guys though.”

“What kind of first name is ‘Aye Ex’??” Uncle Vernon asked, incredulous.

“What kind of name is ‘Uncle’ you dumb cocksucker?”

Mike’s eyes fell to the darkened, empty fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he’d sunk into a hot bath.

“I’m an expert at flames.”

Mike sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a badge that read “TI3 Pro Player,” a second set of sunglasses, a stamp labeled “NEL” and what appeared to be a can of Red Bull energy drink.

Uncle Vernon said sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley.”

The giant chuckled darkly.

“I’m not giving your kid shit, creep.”

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

The giant gulped down the entire can of Red Bull, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m the Wardmaster at Fogwards,” he said, “You know Fogwards right?”

“Er — no,” said Harry.

Mike paused, shocked.

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly.

Mike turned to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. “You didn’t tell him how his parents learned to play?”

“Play what?” asked Harry.

“What…” Mike said, confused.

He slowly rose. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

“Harry knows nothing about ANYTHING?” Mike growled at the Dursleys.

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren’t
bad.

“I know about some things,” he said. “I can, you know, play cards and stuff.”

But Mike simply waved his hand and said, “About our game. Your game. My game.
Your mom’s game.”

Harry looked at the shorts Mike was wearing. “Basketball?”

“Dota.”

Uncle Vernon had gone very pale. Mike stared smugly at Harry.

“Your mom and dad,” he said. “They’re famous. You’re famous.”

“What? My — my mom and dad weren’t famous, were they?”

“You don’t know who you are…” Mike ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with
a bewildered stare.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

“Stop!” he commanded. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!”

Mike spoke, his every syllable coated with defiance.

“You never gave him Icefrog’s letter?”

“Whose letter?” said Harry eagerly.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” shouted Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

“Ah, fuck both of you,” said Mike. “Harry — yer a Dota player.”

There was silence inside the hut. Somewhere in the distance, a bear roared.

“I’m a what?” gasped Harry.

“A Dota player,” said Mike. “And you’re gonna be fucking legit.”

Mike handed Harry a yellow envelope, addressed in emerald green and sealed with a curious red square wax symbol with three pronged indentations. He pulled out the scroll and read:

FOGWARDS SCHOOL OF DOTA
Headmaster: ICEFROG
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Fogwards School of Dota. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your courier by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Adrian Finol
Deputy Headmaster

Questions exploded inside Harry’s head like fireworks and he couldn’t decide which to ask first.

After a few minutes he stammered, “What does it mean, they await my courier?”

Mike clapped a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock the sunglasses off his face, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking snow owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could barely read:

Dear Iceforg,
I finally gave Harry ur me his fking lettr. Taking he to buy shit tmrw.
The uncle need 2 stfu, he suckc sock.
hope ur well.
Mike

Mike rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, and threw the owl out into the storm. A moment passed, and they heard a loud THUMP of the bird hitting the ground.

“You’ve killed him!!” cried Harry.

“Oh shit I forgot to upgrade it,” said Mike.

An ambient voice boomed.

“RADIANT’S COURIER HAS BEEN KILLED.”

Uncle Vernon jerked up. “Who said that??”

Mike looked distraught. “Fuck, now we have to wait another two minutes.”

Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“He’s not going,” he said.

Mike grunted.

“You creeps can’t stop him,” he said.

“You what?” said Harry, interested.

“Creeps,” said Mike, “Its what we call people like them. Bad RNG to grow up in a family of the biggest creeps ever.”

“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore
we’d stamp it out of him! Dota player indeed!”

“You knew?” said Harry. “You knew I’m a — a Dota player?”

“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be,
my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school— and came home every vacation with her pockets full of yellow branches and purple smoke, turning things into sheep. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Soe this and Soe that, they were proud of having a Dota player in the family!”

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

“Then she met that boy at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal — and then, if you please she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

Mike shrugged at Aunt Petunia. “It’s not my fault you got outpicked.”

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

Mike glared at the Dursleys so spitefully that they scuttled back to their corner.

“What happened?” Harry asked urgently.

Mike looked suddenly nervous.

“Someone’s gotta tell you,” he said, in a low, sympathetic voice.

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It started — with a Dota player called… ”

“Who?”

“I don’t like saying his name.”

“Why not?”

“People are fucking scared. This guy went bad. His name was…” Mike gulped. “Pendragon.”

“He ganked your parents and he tried to gank you, too. But he couldn’t do it. Nobody knows why.”

Something very painful was going on in Harry’s mind, something he couldn’t deny. He saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Mike was watching him sadly.

“I took you from the ruined house myself, on Icefrog’s orders.”

“Load of old rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon. He was glaring at Mike and his fists were clenched.

“Now, you listen here, boy,” he snarled, “I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these Dota types — just what I expected, always knew they’d come to a sticky end —”

But at that moment, Mike leapt from the sofa and drew a staff, pointing it at Uncle Vernon, almost lazily.

Uncle Vernon stared at the end of the staff, which was shaped like a twisted red flower. His face got red and puffy, as if he tried to continue to speak, but could not.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

“But what happened to Pen-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Long story,” said Mike. “Once upon a time there was a place called Dota allstars…”

Harry waited, but Mike just sat there.

Harry broke the silence. “Did you just fall asleep?”

Mike jolted awake. “Uh, no…”

Harry said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a
Dota player.”

To his surprise, the giant chuckled.

“Not a Dota player, eh? Never felt different when you were angry?”

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it… when he, Harry, had been upset or angry… he had an uncontrollable urge to yell and insult people, to blame others for his shortcomings, to complain about luck and balance.

Harry looked back at Mike, smiling, and saw that Mike was positively beaming at him.
“See?” he said. “You’ll fit right in at Fogwards.”

But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

“Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” he hissed. “He’s going to a normal High School and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — magic wands and blue potions and green leaves —”

““You want to stop Soe and Maelk’s son from going to Fogwards?” growled Mike. “Fuck you, he’s going.”

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR A CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM SOME DUMB GAME!” yelled Uncle Vernon.

“The school’s free, its the cosmetics that cost money, idiot.”

Mike seized a different staff, this time with a head with the skull of some sort of animal, and pointed it at Dudley. Suddenly there was a sharp squeal, and Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last
terrified look at Mike and slammed the door behind them.

“Don’t ever disrespect Dota again,” Mike said as he laid down on the couch to sleep.

He turned to Harry.

“We leave for Dagon Alley in the morning.”