Harry Potter Dota: The First Blood

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

Previous Chapters:

Oct 27 2014: 01 The Wardmaster
Jan 02 2015: 02 The Fogwards Express
Jan 09 2015: 03 The Shuffling
Jan 22 2015: 04 The First Blood

——————-

Fogwards Hallway

Days had passed since the sorting. Even though he was a member of SlytheriNA, Harry was summarily shunned by his housemates, their allegiances turned against him by Demon. Harry had not even met the head of house, who was never there when Demon and his cronies bullied him. The SlytheriNA common room was poorly lit and cold. The only sources of heat and light in the room were the constant flames stoked by its occupants.

There were over a hundred staircases at Fogwards: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Harry walked up one today, on his first day of classes.

As he reached the landing, he bumped squarely into the back of another student. It was Malfho, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Are you blind?” Jimmy Malfho puffed out his chest.

“I’m sorry, you can’t actually see up the steps until you get there,” Harry didn’t understand high ground vision.

“Buy a ward, scrub.” Malfho sneered.

“Yeah, we have wards!” Goyle shouted, accidentally spilling some sort of dust out of his pouch.

“You idiot,” Malfho spat.

The dust had revealed a previously unseen cat that promptly ran away. Suddenly, the school caretaker, Pyrion Flax, was at their side.

“Watch what you’re dusting!” he exclaimed. “You scared Missus Flax. How is she supposed to hunt rats with a fifteen percent slow?”

Pyrion Flax had the unfortunate condition of being mud golem. That is, he was the unlucky possessor of a genetic defect that made the ability to play Dota skip a generation. His parents had been Dota players, and presumably his children could be as well, but Flax, no matter how hard he tried, could not cast spells or play Dota at all.

As Flax bent down to sweep the hall, Harry took advantage of the distraction and hurried off to class.

——————-

Classroom 2GD

Harry arrived at his first Dota class since arriving at Fogwards. He spied Hermione and Ron in the far corner of the room and walked over — he hadn’t seen them since the sorting.

“Hey,” Harry said, waving nervously.

Hermione stood up and hugged him. “Where have you been!”

Harry felt relieved they still remembered him.

“It’s probably just a mistake you were sorted into SlytheriNA. You should just switch houses,” Ron said resolutely. “Submit a support ticket, I’m sure they’ll get back to you right away.”

Hermione was already seated at the table, her notebook and pencils out. Ron remained standing.

“You can take this seat,” Ron said, pointing at the chair next to Hermione, who looked a little offended, but was too excited for class to care very much.

“The desk won’t let me sit next to her,” Ron whispered, pulling Harry aside. “Something about party MMR.”

Just then, a black-robed figure entered the room. The students did not notice, continuing their chatter, until the man muttered under his breath, “Silence.” Conversation in the room died immediately.

He walked slowly to the front and turned. “I am Yames Harding. My students call me Professor 2GD.”

The way the professor’s stare lingered on him, Harry got the distinct idea that he disliked him. By the end of the first lesson, Harry knew he’d been wrong. 2GD didn’t dislike Harry — he hated him.

2GD started the class by taking the roll call. He paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, Yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.”

Jimmy Malfho and his friends sniggered behind their hands. 2GD finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

“You are here to learn Recipes — the subtle science and exact art of forging magical artifacts into more expensive and useful ones,” he began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.”

Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to prove herself. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows.

“Potter!” said 2GD suddenly. “How would you create a mythical crossbow?”

The abruptness of the question startled Harry. Hermione’s hand shot upward instantly.

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry didn’t think it was a very fair question.

It was clear this wasn’t an acceptable answer. “Care to venture a guess?” 2GD continued. “I am sure your classmates would appreciate a glimpse into the mind of the famous Harry Potter.”

Hermione’s hand now wobbled back and forth with urgency.

Harry gulped. “I would probably start with some wood and a bowstr-”

“False,” 2GD cut him off. “It’s made from two large, different colored swords.”

Harry ignored Malfho, who was shaking with laughter.

“Let’s try again, Potter, what does two gloves and a facemask build into?” 2GD looked almost gleeful at Harry’s answer.

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry said. “A hockey uniform?”

From the look on 2GD’s face, it was also not the right answer. “It creates a powerful mythical artifact that stores the departed souls of your defeated enemies.”

Hermione burst out, nearly shouting: “It can also heal you 400 health over eight seconds!”

“Perfect for hockey,” said Harry, who caught Ron’s eye. Ron laughed. 2GD, however, was not pleased.

“For your information, Potter, this artifact may save you or someone you know’s life one day. As head of SlytheriNA house, I’m disappointed that you treat these subjects with such a lack of respect.”

2GD gestured for Hermione to sit down. “Ms. Granger, your house will be deducted 25 MMR for your interruption of class.”

The lesson continued for three agonizing hours.

——————-

Mid Lane Hall

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione assembled with all other students to attend their first extra curricular seminar: 1v1 SoloMid.

A Chinese man stood in the center of the room, flanked by two sixth-year students.

“That’s Professor Wu,” said Ron. “I heard he worked for the Department of Dota as an auror before coming here to teach.”

“We’ll do a demonstration first,” Wu said. He gestured at the two sixth-years wearing house robes. “Danil, Gustav.”

They shook hands and walked away from each other until they were at opposite ends of the hall. A path rose between them with a makeshift river at the center. The lights dimmed.

“That’s Dendi,” said Hermione, gesturing at the tall, skinny sixth-year wearing GяўffiйdФr colors. “And the other one is S4.”

“Why are they standing so far apart?” Harry asked. Faceless soldiers had appeared on both ends of the hall and slowly advanced toward the center.

“They are creep blocking,” said Hermione.

“They are what?” Harry asked as red and green colored bars manifested over the creeps’ heads.

Both students positioned themselves in front of the first wave of creeps, letting them bump mindlessly against their backs. When they reached the center, both students theatrically gestured with their hands, repeatedly pointing and retracting their wands.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” Ron said. “Nothing’s happening.”

Hermione watched, transfixed. One of the creeps was struggling, the bar over his head nearly winking out. The GяўffiйdФr sixth-year, Dendi, moved near it…

In that moment, the Ravencleu acted, a shockwave of blue energy exploding out of his hands. But as it reached Dendi, he disappeared, winking out of existence while conjuring a sphere of bright light that drifted over the creep wave toward his opponent.

As S4 dodged the glowing ball, Dendi sidestepped, producing a large, metallic hook that shot forward as he raised his arm. S4 stood in the hook’s path, not reacting.

“Someone didn’t read the patch notes,” Hermione commented.

The hook hit S4 in the chest, dragging him back. Dendi gestured upward with both hands, and a black flare burst from the ground where S4 landed. The sound was deafening. When it cleared, he was gone.

An ambient voice boomed. “FIRST BLOOD.”

“Get rekt…” someone behind them said.

Professor Wu stepped forward. The lights turned on, and the first years all collectively exhaled.

“Where did Gustav go?” Harry said.

“Oh, he’s dead,” said Ron, matter of factly. Harry gasped.

“Not like, permanently,” Hermione added. “He’ll be back in a minute.”

The students that were spectating applauded, and Professor Wu raised his hand. “Do we have any first years who would like to try?”

“This is so scary,” said Jacky Mao in a tiny voice behind Harry.

2GD surveying his house’s section. There were no volunteers. He sighed. “Malfho will do, I suppose.”

Demon walked forward with a sneer.

“SlytheriNA has not had a good young middle laner since Artour transferred to Ravencleu last week,” Hermione said, as if this were common knowledge.

“Let’s have the second representative be from a different house,” suggested Wu. “Professor Volochai?”

“Oh no, I’m going to get picked,” Ron groaned. “Vee One Lat hates me!”

Jacky Mao closed his eyes, unable to look. There was a dramatic pause as Professor V1lat, head of house for GяўffiйdФr, scanned the crowd.

“Ronald, davai.”

Demon, already standing at the far end of the room, laughed out loud.