The Summoning
Technoblade sighed as he wrapped his heavy cloak around his shoulders. It was one of the few days that he had to leave his small house and he wasn’t happy about it.
The weather was starting to cool as autumn was in full swing. This called for his thicker pants and heavier capes.
Just as he was about to open his front door he paused.
Something was wrong.
There was an insistent tugging at his power.
Just as he was about to investigate the tugging he was pulled into a warp of time, space and colour. Everything was too dark and too light. He could see everything and yet nothing for a few seconds. It all ended too quickly.
Suddenly he was wobbling unsteadily on his hooves in a large hall.
He looks around, a facade of calm settling on his face as he looks at the faces of children whispering. He’s in a large eating hall, maybe one for some kind of school?
The roof has the details of twilight decorating it, with hundreds of candles suspended in the air. Large decorated windows show the ceiling matches the outdoors perfectly.
His eyes finally landed on the front of the room where a table sat on a platform with what he assumed was the teaching staff.
He shifted his weight to cock his hip to the side as he raised an eyebrow.
The old man in the center speaks up, “Harry Potter?”
Technoblade huffs, “Wow, haven’t heard that name in a hot second. But I suppose so. Why was I summoned?”
The man who looks older than Technoblade looks shocked before he coughs into his fist. “You have been chosen as one of the Triwizard Champions, please join me in the staff hall.”
Technoblade decided he’d humour the old man, so without much fanfare he followed after him.
His hooves clicked against the stone floors of the hall as he was led into a small room filled with three other people who couldn’t be older than twenty.
Before the old man could say anything a bunch of other people walked into the room arguing loudly.
“‘E cannot be allowed to ‘ompete! He iz not from any school!”
“And if he was he’d been from Hogwarts who’d have two champions.”
Technoblade raised his eyebrow. Interesting.
The old man clears his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Now, Harry my boy, where have you been all these years?”
Technoblade was not amused. “First of all, I am not your boy. Second, I have been living at home? I don’t know what you expected, old man.”
Everyone had varying levels of shock and indignation on their faces.
“Ah, I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock. For Four years now you have been declared missing after you didn’t appear in Hogwarts for your first year.”
Yeeaaa, this old man was crazy. “Mhm, sure. I have never heard of you or Hogwarts.”
The room looked scandalized at the implications of that.
“Albus what does he mean when he says that he’s never heard of you or Hogwarts?” Her voice was firm and starting to thicken with a Scottish accent in her anger.
Dumbledore starts defending himself, with the other adults starting to argue. Technoblade gets bored with the arguing. He starts inspecting his nails, pure natural black to match the fading black on his fingertips leading up part of his arms.
Even his antisocial ass would much rather be shopping than be in this room of pointless arguments of too loud volume.
He blinks, looking up as he realizes everyone has gone silent. They’re all staring at him weirdly.
Dumbledore takes the lead again, “My boy, why do your hands look like that?”
Now it’s Techno’s turn to look at them weirdly. “They’ve always looked like that? Like my hooves they’re just another part of me.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.”
Everyone in the room simultaneously looked down at his hooves.
One of the kids speaks up for the first time since Technoblade entered the room. “How do you balance on them?”
Techno gives most of his attention to the kid in black and yellow, and shrugs. “Practice I guess? I learned to walk with them so there wasn’t much of an adjustment, it’s weirder to have human feet.” At the thought his nose scrunches up.
The kid hums in thought. “That makes sense. Don’t they get annoying?”
Technoblade makes a ‘so-so motion’ with his hands as he answers, “The clicking can get annoying on stone or other hard surfaces when it’s quiet, but I spend most of my time walking on dirt so it’s not that bad.”
Before the boy can inquire further their conversation is interrupted. “It doesn’t matter what he does in his day-to-day! Does he have to compete or not?”
Technoblade gives a stink eye to the older guy in red. He was enjoying that conversation.
Another older guy with a receding hairline speaks up nervously, “Uh.. he will. The contract is magically binding.”
Great. Just what he needs. A magically binding contract.
“Can I see the contract?”
The guy actually squeaked, before looking frantically at Dumbledore. “Ah my boy, I don’t think that’d be necessary. It’s not like you could leave it.” His piercing blue eyes sparkled with unspoken words.
“Uh huh. Doesn’t matter. I want to know how I could lose my magic.”
“That’s fair, give the lad the damn contract.”
Thank you mysterious man without an eye or leg.
Nervously, the guy with a receding hairline and a large tome handed him a piece of parchment.
Techno‘s eyes scanned the text quickly, rereading it carefully to look at the fine print.
“So I just have to be here for the actual tasks? And any possible diplomatic reasons?”
Dumbledore blinked like he had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean dear boy?”
“This tournament was created to bring the schools closer together, no?”
“It was.”
“Then I technically need to participate in activities that could bring the schools closer together even though I am not enrolled in any school.”
Dumbledore only hums.
Technoblade sighs deeply as he pinches the top of his nose. He rolls up the parchment, waving it away into his inventory.
“I guess that means I’ll have to stay close by, yes?”
He gets head nods in response. “After the debriefing I will lead you to your chambers Mr. Potter.”
He inclined his head in thanks to the older woman before waving his hand in clear dismissal to everyone else.
Dumbledore turns to the receding hairline guy, nodding at him. “Ah! Yes! Uhm, the first task will take place on the twenty fourth of November. Headmasters cannot help their champions. That is all.”
Dumbledore claps his hands together, “Wonderful! Meeting adjourned!”
In a wave of ostentatiously coloured robes, Dumbledore leaves the room. Everybody slowly trickles out until it is only Technoblade and the older Scottish lady.
“Come Mr. Potter.”
She turns, leading him through the winding halls of the castle. They walk on several different staircases, sometimes utilizing the fact they apparently move at random.
There is no conversation between them until they reach a supposedly random painting, having only the sounds of his hooves and her heels clicking on the stone floors.
She then turns to face him once more, “This is where you will be staying for the time being. You can choose a verbal password, just say ‘password change: I whatever word or phrase’.”
With that she turns and leaves him.
He is left alone with a painting of three pigs in suits.
“Password change, ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᒷリ↸.”