Wheelchair God of War is Speedrunning Hogwarts

Wheelchair God of War is Speedrunning Hogwarts

Author: Ming Xi

Tags: Harry Potter, campus, magic, harem

Synopsis:

Oranges

Reincarnating as the posthumous daughter of the Black family, she is blessed with a debuff right at the start.

Looking at her exclusive wheelchair, with bitter medicine sliding down her throat and breaking her heart, Vera angrily hurls the potion bottle.

What happened to if-you-just-believe-hard-enough-it's-magic! How can it not even cure lower-limb paralysis!

Good news: she knows Ancient Magic.

Bad news: the Savior is a girl and very cute.

No wait, this is fantastic news.

Vera, who originally only wanted to keep a low profile and level up, looks into Miss Potter's pitiful green eyes and directly draws her wand to start enjoying the thrill of battle!

Dark Lord invading? Just driving her own school right into him should do the trick, right.

Ancient underground ruins riot? Good thing she lacks experience points and her demand is big enough, no matter how many come it's fine.

Wait a second... that's not the kind of demand she meant!

Watching Miss Savior and Miss Know-It-All corner her against the wall, Vera cannot help but let out a plaintive cry: "This is definitely not the thrill of battle I wanted!"

Volume I: First Year

Chapter 1: The Posthumous Daughter of the Black Family

Sunlight had just dipped into the night when Vela Black jolted awake from a dull pain.

Cold sweat soaked the silk pillowcase, and it was only when she struggled to open her eyes and caught sight of the old, intricate decorations overhead that she remembered where she currently was.

Although she had transmigrated to this world three days ago, she still occasionally forgot her new identity—Vela Black, supposedly... the posthumous daughter of Regulus Black.

Barely propping herself up from the bed, she gave a low cough, a sickly flush blooming across her delicate brows.

Vera struggled to brace herself against the edge of the bed; the familiar dull ache in her spine felt like countless tiny needles wandering along her marrow, while the sensation of her non-existent lower limbs gave her a feeling of illusory, stinging pain.

This was the aftermath of a car accident, a torture that had never ceased since she transmigrated into this body.

She bit her lower lip, carefully groping to reach the wheelchair by the bed as her slender fingers trembled on the leather armrests.

Vera took a deep breath, using all her strength to haul herself into the wheelchair, and only then managed to catch a moment of breath.

She adjusted her respiration, wheeled herself to the window, and reached out to pull back a corner of the curtains. Deep night instantly poured in, illuminating her pale face.

Outside the window was the desolate garden of the Black family, and beside the overgrown fountain, a nightingale was pecking at berries.

"Mistress, did you have another nightmare?" The voice of Kreacher the house-elf sounded outside the door, his hoarse, low tone carrying careful, cautious respect. "At this hour, it is just about time for you to take your medicine."

Without Kreacher's reminder, the bitter scent of the potion had already drifted through the crack in the door, making her stomach spasm reflexively.

Vera's fingers paused, the deep green velvet fabric slipping from her fingertips to cover most of the outside world once more, leaving only a thin, cold silver line of moonlight to outline the contours of her frail profile.

"Come in, Kreacher." The sticky post-sleep texture made her voice hoarser than usual.

The wooden door let out a slight creak, and one of the aged House-elves walked in with a hunched back, holding a silver tray upon which a crystal vial rested, its emerald-green potion bubbling bizarrely.

"There was a letter this afternoon, but I didn't have time to give it to Mistress earlier."

Kreacher placed the potion bottle on the bedside table, his voice sounding slightly higher than usual. He lit the candle on the table, pulled out a letter sealed with wax, and respectfully handed it over.

It was a yellowish letter, the text on the envelope written in emerald-green ink: Number 12, Grimmauld Place, second-floor room on the left, to Miss Vela Black.

Vera narrowed her eyes, her gaze shifting from the envelope to Kreacher's tear-filled, turbid eyes.

Exhaling silently, she leaned forward slightly to take the envelope, but as her sleeve slipped down, it revealed the dense chemical burns from potions etched onto her wrist—a memento left behind by her previous failed treatments.

Her fingertips gently stroked the crest of the Hogwarts emblem, and she tore it open, scanning it ten lines at a glance. It was indeed identical to the Hogwarts acceptance letter she had seen in her past life.

She put the letter down, noticing Kreacher's ears twitching, a complex emotion she could not read flashing in those tennis-ball-sized eyes.

"It was a summer just like this," Kreacher's hoarse voice choked up slightly, his knobby fingers twisting the worn tea towel on his body. "When Master Regulus received his letter back then, it was also this season..."

He muttered on and on, then suddenly realizing something, "Kreacher speaks out of turn..."

"It's fine." Vera softly interrupted him, placing the unfolded letter on the table before picking up the potion bottle. Looking at the bizarre green liquid inside, she tilted her head back and drank it down.

The moment the potion slid down her throat, Vela's spine stiffened abruptly, as if thousands of fire ants were crawling along her esophagus toward her entire body, building nests in the gaps between her bones.

Her fingernails dug deeply into the armrests, causing the leather of the wheelchair to emit a faint, overburdened creak.

"Mistress!" Kreacher cried out in alarm, watching her lovely, pale face slowly twist, and subconsciously started to step forward.

"Out!" Vera squeezed the command out from between her teeth, cold sweat streaming down her temples and dampening the stray hairs at her ears.

No one could help her; she could only grip the wheelchair armrests for dear life, relying purely on sheer willpower to resist that wave of burning agony.

The House-elves hesitated for a second, then vanished with a sharp pop.

The burning sensation brought by the potion gradually transformed into a strange numbness, and Vela felt her consciousness begin to float, as if she had been pulled out of her body.

She saw her distorted, unrecognizable face reflected in the mirror.

She saw that rainy night that always haunted her dreams: the blinding Tomori, her Muggle foster mother screaming as she pushed her out of the car, and then... and then a bloody mess...

That was the memory left behind by the original Vera, and also the nightly nightmare she experienced every time since she transmigrated.

Vera bit down hard on her lip, refusing to let up even after tasting the tang of rust.

She had to take complete Control of this body and live a proper life in this world... she could not pass out, absolutely not.

Just as her consciousness was about to be swallowed by the excruciating pain, the burning sensation of the potion suddenly vanished.

Vera opened her eyes abruptly and found herself suspended in a pitch-black void.

The wheelchair, the room, and even the pain were all gone, and beneath her feet lay a massive magic circle woven from silver light.

At the core of the circle, a rhombus-shaped crystal slowly rose, bearing a line of text upon its surface:

[In the name of Ancient Magic, heir of the bloodline, you have passed the trial and gained the qualification for inheritance.]

Ancient Magic?

Vera frowned, and before she could react, the text instantly turned into streams of light that burrowed into her body.

In an instant, she seemed to see ancient wizards casting spells under the starlit sky, to see giant boulders symbolizing contracts buried into the foundations of Hogwarts, and to see countless sparks of magic scattering like stardust to fall across various places beneath her feet...

Then, the excruciating pain struck once more, but this time it was a different sort of pain—

It felt as though someone were pouring molten metal into her veins, only to flush her bone marrow with ice-cold water the very next second.

In a daze, Vera seemed to see web-like golden lines emerging beneath her skin, starting from the scar on her wrist and gradually covering her entire body.

Before she could look closely, her consciousness plummeted, as if she were being forcibly dragged back to reality by an invisible force.

She leaned forward against the armrests of her wheelchair, gasping heavily from the depths of her chest, while the crystal medicine vial rolled onto the carpet with a dull thud.

With a trembling hand, Vera raised herself up, squinting through the candlelight to see that the potion burn on her wrist was healing at a visible rate.

The previously gruesome burn mark had vanished without a trace, replaced by a layer of pale golden patterns—they moved slowly beneath her skin like living creatures before gradually fading away.

"...Ancient Magic?"

She muttered in a daze, unable to help falling into deep thought.

Author's note: New author, new book, thanks for following me, meow.

Chapter 2 Ancient Magic

Ancient Magic—a term that was never explicitly mentioned in the original Harry Potter world-view, yet appeared in the game—was something Vera had roughly understood prior to her transmigrated state.

Unlike conventional magic, Ancient Magic was an extremely rare power, far more chaotic and formidable than the magic mastered by modern wizards.

Take the protagonist of Hogwarts Legacy, for instance: in the later stages, killing people was practically as casual as eating and drinking; as long as the mana bar was sufficient, they could effortlessly wipe out dozens of people on the way to class.

It was a level that would make Grindelwald weep and Voldemort collapse upon seeing it.

And the illusion she had just witnessed, alongside this term that had abruptly invaded her mind...

No, that was definitely no illusion.

Vera stared blankly at her fully recovered wrist, her fingertips gently touching the skin that had once been covered in scars; the texture was smooth and cool, as though it had never been scorched by potion.

The previously pale golden patterns had completely faded, but that strange sense of power still flowed deep within her veins.

She slowly clenched her fists, clearly sensing an unprecedented strength surging through her body.

Raising her head slowly, her gaze landed on the dressing mirror in the corner of the room—the young girl in the mirror was pale and thin, her silver-gray wavy hair plastered messily against her sweat-dampened temples.

And those black eyes, which originally belonged to the Black family, now emitted a faint golden halo, like some ancient magic burning deep within her pupils.

Vera gazed at her mutated pupils in the mirror, her fingertips instinctively brushing the corner of her eye, and that trace of golden halo vanished in a flash like an illusion, leaving behind a scorching afterimage branded upon her retina.

The room was utterly silent, and right at that moment, a sharp pain suddenly radiated from her wrist.

Vera frowned sharply, watching as the golden patterns that had just faded from her wrist emerged once more. This time, they were no longer simple pathways, but gradually condensed into a line of text—

[Magic Circuit activated]

The text flickered for a brief moment, then dissolved into fine points of light that scattered into the air.

Vera's breathing stalled slightly as she suddenly realized—the flow of magic within her body had become clearer than ever before.

She could "see" them.

Those stores of magic within her body, once as elusive as mist, were now flowing slowly along her blood vessels, bones, and nerves like lit-up riverbeds of stars, ultimately converging near her heart to form a miniature Magic Circuit.

And at the center of this circuit, right where her heart lay, a tiny crystal was already suspended—the exact one she had seen amidst that magic circle earlier.

A string of text she could not understand flowed out like water. She silently pressed her lips together, and after a moment, spoke in a low, husky voice: "Is this not an inheritance? Then explain all of this to me in a form I can understand."

The crystal seemed to understand her words, its surface rippling with wave-like patterns as those obscure characters gradually reorganized into English she could comprehend:

[Heir, welcome to the world of Ancient Magic.]

[You have passed the trial and gained the qualification for inheritance.]

[Current Magic Circuit level: Awakening · Novice]

[Magic reserves: 17/30]

[Mana Regeneration Rate: 6.5/hour]

The crystal emitted a faint resonance within her body, and a new line of text floated into view on her retina.

Vera's fingers tightened unconsciously, causing the wheelchair's armrest to creak slightly.

This was simply like... some kind of game interface. She narrowed her eyes and tried to call out in her mind, "Show full status."

The crystal trembled slightly, and more text appeared:

[Name: Vera Black]

[Age: 11]

[Attributes: Strength (3), Agility (1), Magic (3), Intelligence (7), Charisma (8), Luck (2)]

[Physical Condition: Lower Limb Paralysis (Repairable)]

[Ancient Magic Study Status: Unstudied]

[Talents: Shadow Affinity (Black Bloodline Talent), Ancient Magic Affinity]

[Magic Circuit Bonuses: Basic Spell Power Bonus 20%, Mana Regeneration Rate Bonus 30%, Spell Study Speed Bonus 50%]

[Magic Circuit Skill 1: Circuit Vision (Can see through residual magic on the surface of magical objects, such as Apparition traces, and identify cursed items)]

[Magic Circuit Skill 2: Basic Healing (Passive)]

Vera's fingertips trembled slightly, her gaze locked dead on the line detailing her physical condition.

Her throat tightened, and she squeezed the words out from between her teeth, "My legs... can still be repaired? What needs to be done to fix them?"

Ripples spread across the surface of the crystal: [Ancient Magic: Life Reconstruction (Requires Magic Circuit level to reach "Mastery: High-Tier", Mana Reserve 500+)]

A sound of footsteps came from outside the door, and Vera snapped back to her senses, realizing only then that her nails had dug deeply into her palms.

She slowly relaxed her hand, staring at the crescent-shaped bloodstains on her palm--the wounds were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye, a very faint golden light flashing beneath her skin.