HARRY POTTER:Start again System

The word flashed in Harry's mind of his own volition, and instantly his face drained of all color.

'Not now!' he thought to himself. Now wasn't the time for wild theories. Maybe they were just trying to help. But either way, he needed to find out what was going on.

Ping!

Quest Alert!

Find out what is going on.

Reward-

100xp

Failure-

The trio will learn you know about them and will 'take care of it.'

YES/NO?

Not taking long to read the quest and press Yes, Harry swiftly rushed closer to them. As soon as he could, he ducked behind a telephone pole and started listening. Their voices were starting to reach his ears.

"His wounds," a man's gravelly voice asked grimly, "Will they heal?"

"They should," said another man with a much younger voice, "It's not a spell I've seen before, but it looks like a bunch of normal deep wounds. Nothing our expert here can't handle. Isn't that right Em?"

"Yes," came the clipped reply from a woman's voice.

Harry audibly gasped. It wasn't just any woman. Harry knew that voice quite well from countless hours of nonsensical Chemistry lectures. It was Ms. Roemmele. And unfortunately for him, his gasp didn't go unnoticed.

"Did you hear that?" he heard the man ask, and he froze. This had never happened to him before. Sure, he tended to find himself in strange situations quite often, but this was a bit too grim even for me.

"Who is it?! Come out or we will be forced to shoot!" Ms. Roemmele's voice warned, and Harry broke out of his stupor. He knew better than to think she wasn't serious. After a few seconds of hesitating, he finally made up his mind. Taking a deep breath and holding his hands up like he had seen in those old cop movies, he walked out from behind the telephone pole.

All three of the figures were standing around the fallen boy protectively, shielding him as they pointed sticks with glowing tips at Harry.

"Har-Mr. Potter!" Ms. Roemmele said in relief, catching herself halfway through saying his first name. Harry paused. She never called anyone by anything other than their surname. And then he looked up at the floating box above her head.

Emmeline Vance Order of the Phoenix

LV-20

Harry stared at it in shock. Ms. Roemmele wasn't who she said she was. Instead of just a cranky old teacher, she was an incredibly high-leveled person. And judging from what he had seen of the Game so far, a high level almost universally meant danger. Which meant that the two men standing behind her were just as dangerous if, not more.

Boris Maghian Order of the Phoenix

LV-22

and

Sullivan Jones Order of the Phoenix

LV-42

and above the injured kid lying on the floor,

Gordon Jack Game Lover

LV-4

Harry could've soiled his pants had he known what level-42 meant in terms of the Game, but since he had nothing to compare it with other than his own age's levels, he could do nothing but feel a healthy dose of fear and respect settle into his mind. Warily, he approached the trio, who were holding up and pointing strange polished sticks at him.

Upon seeing his face, they all lowered their sticks. Harry frowned in confusion. Had he stumbled into some sort of mid-day cult ritual?

"Mr. Potter! are you alright there?" Ms. Roemmele asked, seeming uncharacteristically relieved to see him.

Unable to form words in his confused state, he simply nodded. One of the men; the younger one; walked over to him and waved his stick over Harry's head, muttering inaudibly, before he turned to Ms. Roemmele and nodded.

"Good," the older man said gruffly,"We were about to head out and look for you. Figured the attacker would try and come for you next after he missed you this time."

Harry's eyes widened. "Me!" he half-screamed half-squeaked, "This was supposed to happen to me?!"

"Sully! You are out of line!" Ms. Roemmele angrily snapped at the older man, but Harry was having none of it. He had stayed quiet long enough, and today's bizarre events were starting to wear thin on his patience.

"Now hold on a second. What is going on here? What happened to Gordon? Who are these people? And who is after me?"

"Calm down Harry," the younger man said, "Sully was just kidding. No one is after you. Your friend will be just fine in just a moment. You don't have to worry at all."

"Fine?!" Harry said incredulously, looking at the deep cuts littered across Gordon's still, unmoving body. "From what angle does that look fine to you sickos!"

Ms. Roemmele had had enough. "Mr. Potter! That will be enough out of you. If you want to see your friend live, you will be quiet and let us heal him. If not, then you are free to do whatever you want, but I swear in the name of all that is holy that if you act out while I am trying to save this boy's life, I will have your hide."

That did the trick.

Harry stopped, and hesitantly nodded. With a curt tip of her head, Ms. Roemmele turned around and dropped to her knees, pulling out that strange stick from her pocket and waving it over Gordon's body. Harry watched with wide eyes as the muscle and sinew restitched itself and the skin slowly closed over all the cuts on his body, utterly fascinated and terrified at the exact same time.

Behind them, the two men were having a conversation of their own.

"How in the world did he see us? Didn't your Confundus work right?"

"It worked perfectly. He shouldn't be able to see us right now. I don't know what is happening."