Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Warcraft, Harry Potter and other fantasy francises. These rights go to Blizzard and J.K. Rowling.
This is a story about a boy in a cupboard under the stairs. This boy had a great destiny in front of him. This boy would attend an exclusive boarding school, make friends, protect magic rocks, kill snakes, participate in interschool sports, defeat a madman and his followers and marry the women he loved.
But this is not that boy.
A large wave of magic was traveling through the multiverse changing events as it went. People appeared and disappeared across worlds, continents sank, suns imploded and the laws of nature itself changed. Forty two timelines of this child were affected. In one he was whisked away to the past, in another his parents arose from the dead and in another a piece of soul in his scar got his chance to take control. In six universes he ceased to be and in another five he appeared. But this is not what happened in this universe.
In this universe he was chased by his aunt's dog and instead of ending up inside a tree, unable to leave, the boy found himself in a library, locked in after closing time and found a book that didn't belong in this world, accidentally sorted in the children's section by a man with the strangest red eyes.
A boy also known as freak who had recently started attending primary school where he was called Harry, looked at the strange book, bound in human flesh, runes glowing light green upon its cover, texts upon it in unreadable scripts, illuminating the encroaching night. The boy shrugged his shoulders and he opened it.
27 June 1986,
Earlier today Dudley had his sixth birthday party. It was a great day for Harry although he had to clean the whole house and make all the food before the guests came, he was allowed to stay out of his cupboard the whole day. He had to be present to keep the other mothers from asking questions about where he was after all. Although he hated to be stuck with Dudley and the little sycophants who deferred to him in the hope that they might become his friends. Dudley's first acquired friend being the boy Piers but it looked as if a boy named Malcolm had made it in this clique an hour ago. All he had to do was punch Harry in the face breaking his glasses. He'd only gotten them a month ago.
But all was good. He'd even gotten a large piece of cake, more then he'd eat in three days. One of the visiting mothers had given it to him although from the withering looks his Aunt was giving him he'd not be eating for three days after today. One of the mothers even called him adorable! He had never been called that before.
But it was during this party this good day turned bad.
His beloved aunt Marge had come to visit for Dudley's birthday. She had become increasingly irate toward him during the party. 'Hogging Dudley's day' she'd said to his Aunt who'd started making pinched expressions at Marge when she wasn't looking. It got so bad at a certain point the other parents started to give her worried looks when Harry was close to her, even aunt Petunia seemed to pale if aunt Marge opened her mouth. As if she was to do something freakish or say something she might get in trouble for.
Then the party games started. Harry enjoyed the party games. Dudley and his new friends couldn't do anything to him, the other parents were watching after all. But then it was determined the next game was musical statues, but soon there appeared to be two problems with this game. First: Dudley was terrible at musical statues, two: even worse, Harry was good at it, or at least better then Dudley and the others.
Naturally Dudley threw a tantrum once he realised the freak was better in a game then him. So to appease the birthday boy a new game was chosen.
Aunt Marge having coloured a light shade of purple because of Harry taking Dudley's limelight grabbed Harry by the hair and dragged him to the kitchen undetected in the chaos caused by children shouting their choices for a next game. The only one to notice was Petunia who seemed to send a constipated look in their general direction.
The kitchen held the one thing that had the potential to make Harry's day very bad. Ripper. Aunt Marge had taken her dog over because she couldn't leave her prized sweetheart, a bulldog that had already attacked twelve people in its two year old existence, alone.
As soon as she came into the kitchen she threw Harry to the floor and walked to the other side of the room past the backdoor. She started cooing and gently petting the dog that lay there on the tiles which started to slowly get up, wagging its tail.
She gave Harry a look filled with malice and turned to her dog and spoke the following words: 'get the freak, boy'! Rippers head swivelled to his target, eye's dilating and ears flattening in the process it's legs stretching to pounce on Harry's unsuspecting form. Harry however was already running for the backdoor.
The hesitation in the dogs movements since its prey was running slightly towards it and the surprise in Marge eyes didn't register to Harry as he reached the backdoor and started reaching up to unlock the door and get out of the dogs reach. Said dog had gotten over its surprise and lunged for the back of the struggling boys legs as Marge looked on with glee.
A scream of Marge's name filled the air making her look up shocked and Ripper pause in his soon to be mauling as Petunia stood in the entryway of the room sending a glare in her direction. As she turned to look at Harry he had long since left and only Rippers tail was visible as the dog continued chasing the young boy out the door.
In other universes aunt Petunia never came in resulting in a bite from Ripper for Harry. The pain in his leg would slow him down and force him to climb up a tree in the park two blocks away to escape from Ripper. Through this slight change Harry wasn't bitten and could continue to run, and that he did. Harry ran still after he lost Ripper. He ran after he lost the way. He ran away from the punishment that running away would get him. He ran for hours. He ran form Little Whinging to Greater Whinging to Walton-on Tames.
Spurred on by his frantic behaviour, panic and utter conviction to get away his magic reacted, reinforcing the muscles in his body. That is until the haze of panic slipped away and tiredness and soreness replaced it.
Out of breath Harry came at a stop before a library. After some thought the thoroughly lost boy entered, not because of the books, although Harry could read already, the legacy of a misspent youth, basic reading was necessary to cook a meal to the high Dursley standard. Harry didn't enter because of the sign that read in large comfy red letters: 'Grand opening', but because of the small print beneath saying: 'food and drinks inside', and perhaps to get a map.
As he entered he was offered a slice of cake and a large glass of lemonade and another refill when he said he ran all the way and his parents would be coming soon to the enquiring staff. Fed and watered he found himself a map of London and Surrey and in a fit of paranoia squeezed himself behind the bookcases encasing the sides of the stairs to the second level leaving him in a room covered by shadows out of sight of any adults.
It was in here bowed over a map to discern his location, the stress of the day caught up to him and Harry passed out under the stairs in a deep and dreamless sleep.
Harry woke up and found himself alone in the library. Squeezing out of his hiding place he could see it was late at night. Trying to think of what to do Harry set out to explore the big dark library.
So it was Harry set out inside off the dark deserted library and was attracted by faint light towards the children's section. A green glow seemed to leak out of one of the shelves. Harry walked closer towards its source finding a book. Taking it in his hands he saw strange runes glow. Curious he gave a shrug and opened it.
Deep in the library little Harry looked at the books first page. The only reason he was still looking at the first page was because he couldn't turn to the next page. Some hidden power seemed to stick the pages together making them unable to be opened.
But as Harry took a closer look at the first page he felt disappointed. He couldn't understand a word of it, but the bottom part of the page seemed to be covered in a strange rune. The rune looked like a claw, holding a horn spilling a liquid in the form of an offering. By the dark red glow of the rune in contrast with the others the liquid seemed eerily like blood.
Guided by instinct Harry quickly bit his thumb and let some drops fall upon the page. His blood began to glow and then seemed to move to the next page. Very suspicious Harry looked at the next page in the weird book to see three runes: Some kind of swirly stone, a mouth filled with teeth and something that resembled a flame. On the sides were weird scribbles he didn't pay any mind to. The swirly stone seemed to have drawn some of his blood from the last page and seemed to pulse in the same blood red light.
Touching it curiously he felt a sharp tug behind his navel. As this happened the pointless scribbles at the edges of the page seemed to shift, shaping themselves in slanted letters forming legible words for young Harry to read.
According to the words on the two pages this was some kind of aptitude test. The book tested if its owner was powerful enough to be allowed to wield it. The ritual was explained as a ritual act done in order to bind the book to its intended owner, binding soul and magic to its pages.
The cost to become this books master through this ritual however was one soul. Luckily for harry he had one large piece of soul lodged in his forehead almost as big as the small soul of a child, which was promptly consumed by the book.
Harry wasn't aware of the price taken except for a stinging pain in his scar. So deciding in his six year old mind to sit his headache out, he retreated to his hidden spot under the stairs. As the headache started to fade Harry was lulled to sleep all the while clutching the almost magical book to his side. A book that even in his sleep drew him towards it, an attraction forged by the magic flowing between the two. A book titled: The way of the warlock.
In an office somewhere in a castle in Scotland a lot of tiny devices all tied to Harry through his blood and magic seemed to stop in their actions. Some did this peacefully while others violently combusted, imploded or transfigured themselves into small rodents. Alarmed some of the local house elves appeared in this mess and started fervently restoring the office to its previous state, the elf in charge of the office even conjuring replacements out of thin air to restore everything to its previous state.
Luckily for the elves, the owner of the office and headmaster of the school the office resided in was not in attendance. Since it was one and a half month before term started he was safely out of the country tending to his overseas duties. He would return in the middle of august and see nothing out of place, presuming all was well, Harry's absence from the Dursleys would go unnoticed for some time to come.
Far from this office, behind vast dimensional barriers, shadow lord Fel'dan trudged through the dark halls of Shadow Hold in Felwood on the planet of Azeroth. Two of his succubae enslaved to him followed him diligently.
As he made his way out of his personal chambers he seethed in rage. His personal grimoire had gone missing. He had just finished it the other day, all his vast fel-knowledge recorded within. But even more important he had been gifted several demons by Lord Banehollow himself to bind to his tome to relieve the strain of summoning these demons forth.
He suspected Banehollow's lackey Ur'dan of the theft. He long suspected the simpering orc was after his position as leader of the shadow council on Azeroth.
But he pondered as he moved towards the entrance of the vast stronghold. At least Moora and Salia still followed him. His grimoire's loss hadn't made him lose them as well.
Pained human screams from further ahead created by the human paladin captured the other day showed Rakaiah, his third succubus summon was still present as well.
But all of his personal felstalkers had already disappeared, lacking the magic to sustain themselves.
Maybe it was in his best interest to strike against Ur'dan now. He couldn't allow Ur'dan to grow stronger with his growing weakness. Striking soon would allow him to search Ur'dans quarters for the tome and if he was in some way innocent he would have removed his fiercest adversary in the hold.
But first it was time for some stress relieve, he would start with flaying some of the new acolytes before turning towards the night elf prisoner.
And where had that blasted imp gone!
AN: hello everyone! This is my first story and I hope you all like it! If you notice something of, send a reaction.
The dates in this story aren't exactly correct, but then again it's a fanfic. Reactions are appreciated, mainly because English isn't my native language.
I'm already busy on the next part but don't expect frequent updates.