Runemaster 2: Betrayers, Deceivers, and Twelve Foot Tall Chicks with Six Arms

-o0o0o-

Summary:

Harry and company confront a rising tide of enemies as they aid friends and allies while making new ones as they venture into the shattered realm of Outland. The Burning Legion is not prepared! Sequel to Wizard Runemaster. (Predominantly WoW Level 60 to 70 content)

Disclaimer

I don't own Harry Potter in any way. JKR has those rights... Also, Warcraft is owned by Blizzard Entertainment, etc etc.

*Author's Note *

Inspirations: The Black Scorpion by etincelle047

Chapter First Published: 2018-03-03

Chapter Last Update:

Chapter 01 – Through the Dark Portal-

The past year had been one of the strangest in Harry Potter's admittedly abnormal life. In fact, considering the small detail that Harry had not actually been on Earth for the vast majority of that time period, he had very little chances to even truly determine if it actually been a year at all.

The number of insane events, otherworldly people, and amazing things he'd encountered could almost not be counted. After the life he'd lived, to be surrounded now by so many people that both loved and supported him was a godsend, leading him to want to protect them even more.

Leading him to do completely idiotic things those same people would beat the stuffing out of him for even attempting.

Currently, Harry gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the pain that sprouted in places he never knew he had. Hell, he did not even have some of those places just a few minutes ago and they had both sprouted from his body and were ablaze in agony.

He had just drank a potion whose purpose was to lock his as-yet developed animagus form into something rather ambitious. Something possibly beyond his abilities, and something that, to his knowledge, had never been successfully done before.

However, in true Potter fashion he was going to leap in with both feet and try it anyways. The advantages it would bring to the women in his life, their people, their allies was too much to ignore, which is why he had plunged headfirst into this latest magical feat.

Which could possibility be called a bit of outright recklessness. Or, more appropriately, an act of gross stupidity.

Harry guessed the definition depended on the point of view. If asked directly if it was recklessness or stupidity that was behind his latest action, he would probably just end up answering, 'Yes'.

He had done quite a few things like this over the past year, and the luck of the gods had been on his side time and again. As he felt another newly transformed bone slowly, and agonizingly, snap into place, he attempted to distract himself with how he had reached this point.

(!- Warning - Recap and musings upon prior events starts here -!)

Just seconds after his final and rather… explosive victory over Albus Dumbledore, Harry was enroute to his safe house on the other side of the world when his trip was interrupted. He was forcibly summoned away from the realm of Earth in a ritual designed to seek out the largest threat to the demons of the Burning Legion.

The ritual had one purpose once it found a target fitting the criteria; enslave that being to the service of the Burning Legion while summoning them to world of Azeroth. Azeroth was a world that had fought, delayed, and countered multiple Burning Legion incursions over the past ten millennia, and the few scattered pockets of demons that remained on the planet were desperate for anything to fight the forces that continually defeated their masters.

The caster of the ritual hoped to ensnare the defacto leader of the Night Elf people, the High Priestess of Elune, Tyrande Whisperwind, as the target of the ritual. The Night Elves had been at the forefront of almost every defeat the Legion had suffered upon Azeroth, and the Dread Lord performing the ritual thought it would be quite poetic to use their own leader as a slave in the coming conflict.

The only problem with the ritual, was that the demon who found and performed the ritual had been stuck on Azeroth for the past ten years, so it was altogether unaware of events that had transpired elsewhere in the cosmos. The Legion, after all, had been constantly at war with multiple worlds for millennia, and had no idea what other worlds the Legion may have tried to subjugate during the time of his absence. Amongst which, there might be a newer world which had resisted the Legion's might.

Which ultimately proved to be that demon's biggest mistake.

Unknown to the Dread Lord, on a planet known simply as Earth, for a period of ten years after the defeat of a Mage named Voldemort, his demon allies pillaged and raped the planet, and it was another mage named Harry Potter who had caused them the most losses. The magic of the ritual had recognized this unknown human as the most powerful and unforgiving enemy of the demonic conquerors of worlds, and it was because of this, that Harry Potter had suddenly found himself on the magic rich realm of Azeroth.

From there, his journey began just like many of his recent ones did. Namely, killing every demon in sight first and asking questions later.

Along the way, he liberated a captured woman from a race he had never encountered before; a Night Elf Sentinel named Arko'narin, who had been imprisoned by the very same demons that had summoned him. Along with the Night Elf, Harry also liberated numerous battle plans, operation summaries, and other intelligence that concerned the Shadow Council, an almost cockroach-like organization that worshipped the Burning Legion and sought to bring about the end of life on Azeroth. Unfortunately, Harry received debilitating wounds within seconds of his entrance to the new world, and had to be carried unconscious by Arko'narin and her faithful mount for most of the journey back to her base camp once they'd left the demon's underground den..

It was in the small outpost where Arko sought treatment for Harry that he met his second companion in the new world, a long-time friend of Arko'narin's and a hunter by trade named Jessir Moonbow. While he recovered, Harry showed the plans and intelligence he had pilfered during their escape his two new friends, and they were absolutely stunned at the strategic value of the information suddenly at their disposal. The information was far too valuable to not utilize immediately, so their requests for further aid from him came instantly.

Harry immediately volunteered to accompany Jessir and Arko as they returned to their people's capital city so that they could stave off the plots discovered. In the short time Harry was allowed to recover before they moved out, he was given a briefing on this new world he found himself on:

Azeroth.

Two sides dominated this world, and the faction boundaries were drawn entirely based upon racial lines. The problem was, the information found inside the stolen documents detailed plots and sabotage along both sides of the world's divide of conflict, and Harry couldn't in good conscious leave those he had not yet met to deal with the Legion's plots unaware of what was coming.

Harry made copies of the information with his magic, sending the vital information with a Tauren Druid to other factions on this new world, staving off a possible Coup d'eTat amongst the undead Forsaken ranks. This rather unique event, with a 'human' sharing military intelligence with races not aligned with his own, attracted much attention to himself from the recipients of this unasked for bit of intelligence.

Upon delivery to the shocked leader of the Night Elf people, Tyrande Whisperwind, Harry and his new allies were charged with passing on the intelligence Harry had provided to the Night Elves' new allies, the Draenei

This lead to the start of the ever-growing group of people that now surrounded Harry on a daily basis.

Two Draenei joined up while in the Exodar. From there, they travelled south in order to train, fight, and generally aid Harry in becoming acclimated to this new world. In an adventure centered on procuring a rather legendary sword for Arko'narin, they convinced a Black Dragon to join their cause, which lead to aiding Green Dragons and one even joining them. They fought the Black Dragon Onyxia's brother, aiding Red dragons in the process, and furthering their name even more with their exploits.

Those tales reached the Horde, travelling across the racial divide and the inherent hatred that had existed for decades between them. The most unlikely person imaginable then joined, the leader of the undead Forsaken race, hoping to inspire her people to new heights with heroic deeds rather than simply lurk in the dark catacombs under a dead kingdom.

They continued to fight the good fight, gaining more allies and righting wrongs, all before eventually settling in the ruins of a 10,000 year old civilization, which was now perfectly safe under the strongest wards both Harry and Onyxia could devise.

Harry's reminiscing about the past was briefly interrupted by a lance of pain in his back. He suddenly had limbs that had never been there before, and the sensation of moving them wasn't quite instinctive yet, and he was occasionally moving them in a direction they apparently weren't meant to go. He breathed in a deep breath, focusing on memories in order to dull the pain he was feeling as the involuntary transformation continued.

With their lives somewhat stable and protected in Azshara, Harry took advantage of some favors owed to him, and learned how to create portals using his magic. A far more difficult, yet infinitely less stressful way to travel, they also had one massive advantage over the methods of travel that Harry already knew.

They could cross dimensions.

Harry quickly learned the new skill, setting up portals for his companions to quickly and easily travel anywhere on Azeroth they needed. But it was the last portal that Harry created that was of the greatest interest to them all. A portal that lead to Earth. His initial intention had only been to return to tie up loose ends and possibly recruit help for some of his new allies.

But, as always, Harry Potter and his plans didn't survive first contact with… anyone.

Once back on Earth, he reached out to the few allies he knew he still had. He had already planned to fake his death with the assistance of the Goblins, and resurfacing a few years earlier than he had originally intended wasn't that big a deal. Through the Goblins, an idea he had slowly been contemplating before to take form, and a suspicion lead him to an unexpected meeting with the famed and very much still living Alchemist Nicholas Flamel, and his wife, the slightly less famous but no less expert in her knowledge of rituals. With their expertise, he hoped they might find a cure for the Forsaken. The two eagerly joined up for a chance to see a new world and to get away from the fracturing remnants of what existed of a magical society on Earth and how the mundanes hunted them with even more alarming accuracy.

There was one more person deliberately contacted by Harry, Neville Longbottom. Neville was Harry's sole friend he had managed to stay in contact after he had ran from Hogwarts and gone into hiding after his fourth year. After catching up with Neville, Harry discovered that Neville's wife unfortunately had been killed, and his friend was equally as quick to join with Harry in his eagerness to see a new world.

Of course, nothing in Harry's life ever turned out as simple as he had initially intended, and his 'saving people thing' had kicked in no less than four times. Refuge was offered to the Merfolk, Centaur and Veela remnants, as all three races were on the verge of extinction The latter of which had also brought his old acquaintance Fleur Delacour back into his circle and she had joined as sort of a representative from her species and an auxiliary member of their group.

Harry, while he pondered these events, tried to stretch and stand up. One of his legs ended up on top of a bench, which crumbled awkwardly, and actually made him stub a toe. The hilarious sight of him, in his new utterly massive form, hopping with one leg in the air would've been blackmail material for weeks for the others if any of them had witnessed it. The pain in his foot distracted him from knowledge that Veela survivors now lived with them, and made him focus upon the more politically complicated results of his trip to Earth.

While on Earth, almost on a lark, he'd discovered the Flamels were still alive. The idea that the foremost experts on rituals and alchemy still breathed, unlike what Albus had told the world, had brought forth an opportunity Harry knew he could not pass up. The Flamels were now on Azeroth, working towards a cure to the plague of undeath that affected so many who had been victims of the undead Scourge.

The less said about the secrecy involved as they attempted to create their cure the better.

He had also offered refuge to a much bigger group of Goblins, but had done that out of less altruistic purposes. The Goblins had long been trusted allies and had helped him when he needed, so he could hardly do any less. Harry had also viewed it as killing two birds with one stone. Those Goblins had been turned loose on the Dark Iron Dwarves of Blackrock mountain on Azeroth, introducing even more chaos to the lands as a new faction suddenly took over lands that had historically acted as a buffer between Stormwind and Ironforge.

Of course, the large group of refugees had grown bored of the calm and tranquility of their new home of Azshara, especially when they knew of things happening in their world. They had made the decision to venture to Karazhan, former home of Medivh, the Last Guardian of Tirisfal.

They first ventured upward and cleared the tower of many tomes of knowledge, as well as a large undead, spiritual, and demonic presence. The group was temporarily shocked when, for the first time on Azeroth, they encountered a demon who knew of Harry and his exploits on Earth.

Harry and his new family did what he did to most demons. They killed it.

Then they plunged into the secretive and far more perilous depths of the tower. Other interests around Azeroth had also apparently infiltrated the tower, which lead to them killing a vampiric Highborne in the service of the Lich King. As they descended into the darkness and encountered further evidence of Medivh's madness, they also were all confronted with their worst nightmares by the nearly sentient dark magics that infested the dungeons they passed through. Nightmares Harry had only managed to pull them out of by casting his patronus and forcing the dark nightmarish spell work back.

In the final room of the dungeons, in the deepest level they could reach, they discovered the legendary wardstone of Karazhan, as well as the place where Medivh was ultimately killed decades earlier by his friends Lothar and King Llaine. It was also there that they were confronted by a phantasm of an aged and tired Medivh. Before the specter departed into the very shadows that surrounded them, Medivh announced that Harry's arrival on Azeroth had thrown all of the futures he had long foreseen into chaos. More importantly, Medivh stated that he was no longer the Last Guardian.

Azeroth had a new Guardian in Harry Potter.

After Medivh's rather ominous message, the group quickly departed, only for Harry to return a short time later with Colette in tow in order to retrieve the wardstone so that it could be used to protect their own home. However Harry encountered something he hadn't seen before, and he absorbed a massive amount of magic from the ley lines that were feeding directly into the wardstone. Only Collette's presence of mind and quick thinking managed to get them out before the entire tower of Karazhan collapsed upon them.

Harry's powers had been somewhat unstable ever since, as he unintentionally had absorbed a great deal of magical energies from the wards. Somehow, Harry had managed to do this without dying, which was something that his goblin trainers would have said was impossible. He had been warned often about curse breakers who had unintentionally absorbed the magic of items because of mistakes or surprises. All too often those cursebreakers were left squibbed at best, and dead at worst. Not only had he survived, but his magic seemed even stronger than ever, strong enough he was still struggling to control it.

It was a week later, while he was still 'grounded' by the girls in his life for the entire stunt, that he did something else rather foolish, leaving him in his current predicament.

Of course, Harry was knew that if they were aware of what he was doing, he figured they might be a little miffed. Inwardly, he winced as a thought came to him. It had likely not been a good idea to try this without warning any of them, and he wondered whether their reactions would be similar to his last adventure at Karazhan.

Years earlier, Sirius had casually mentioned that the Marauders had sped up the process of becoming animagus by taking a modified potion that would 'imprint' a form upon them, allowing them to bypass the long process of searching for their own true form. Pettigrew of course, had attempted to prank James by slipping rat hair into his potion, only for James to turn the prank around upon Peter, giving the perfect form to the future betrayer of his parents.

Harry had finally gained the courage to attempt the potion himself, and his forced imprint utilized a powdered scale from Neltharian, before he fell from grace, the inside of which had been hollowed out to contain one of the Earth Warder's own tears.

In Harry's own mind, imbibing the potion had been risk free. Supposedly, it wasn't the first transformation into a form that caused troubles for the wizard, but reversing the transformation as the wizard tried to manually undo the transformation that the potion forced his body to perform.

There was the minor detail that Harry was fully aware that no one, in the history of the wizarding world, had ever attempted to use the potion in conjunction with a dragon scale, especially one that was apparently thousands of years old from a massive dragon infused with powers of comparitively god-like creatures and that had eventually gone insane.

Harry was gambling that the inherent risks should've been negated by the sheer amount of magic he had.

He was certainly not going to enlighten any of the girls of that minor bit of information.

True, his magical powers weren't quite stable yet, and he was having massive control issues, but none of that would affect the transformation itself now that a week had passed since the incident. He was relatively certain that the power boost he had received was permanent, since that was pretty much his luck, but on the off chance that it wasn't he had done this now while he felt his magic would still support the initial change.

He tried to ignore the small voice in his head that wagered the girls still would not be pleased by the levels of recklessness he had shown by not involving them in this decision.

Suddenly, he came to the belated realization that the transformation had finished. His mindset completely changed. The plan to take a few cautionary steps and then revert to his normal form went out the window as instincts to immediately jump in the air took over.

He expanded his black wings to their full width, and took a massive leap with legs into the air.

-o0o0o-

Each of the women that had slowly joined themselves to the force of nature known as Harry Potter were in Azshara that particular day, each having completed all errands and minor tasks demanding their attention. It had been a week since Harry's stunt with the wardstone of Karazhan, and many of them had realized the man they loved had occasional instances where he was incredibly, even stupidly, impulsive.

It was something they had discussed between themselves, despite his battle prowess and ability to get himself out of sticky situations, Harry seemed to set a value on his life that was less than that of any of the people around him.

He deemed it acceptable to risk himself, out of sheer curiosity to explore different realms of magic. He was always pushing himself, and those girls who knew him best, understood it was partially a remnant from his years of training and pushing himself to battle a dark lord his society didn't want to fight in his old world. The other aspect was a desire to prove himself; prove the death of his parents and all they sacrificed hadn't been in vain.

Part of the reason many were present that day was there was nothing absolutely pressing at the moment that required their attention elsewhere, and the other was due to one glaring fact.

Granted, the explanation for Harry's actions had made a certain amount of sense when he had finally woken up. With the tower of Karazhan's structural stability being tied to that wardstone, none of the women had abilities that would've transported them out before the tower collapsed around them.

At least none had abilities that would have worked for certain, other than Harry's and Colette's Shadow Walking abilities. There was also no guarantee the magic that prevented the dragons from teleporting, Fleur apparating, or the permanent portkeys the others wore at all times would have collapsed the same time the structural integrity protections did.

The only reason more of them weren't angrier was that Fleur, being a former curse-breaker herself in the employ of the Earth-Goblins, had verified that no one from Earth would have ever expected a wardstone to have been configured in such a manner.

She guaranteed that anyone with her training who had attempted maintenance on such a stone would've performed many of the same steps Harry had done. There had been no reason to suspect that the trap that lay underneath even existed, as it technically was not even a trap. Unfortunately, it was only a fluke of Harry's own nature and biology that had allowed him to survive the debacle.

Not that that observation pleased any of the girls at all.

Each of their group was currently occupied with their own activities as they waited for their final members to arrive. It was a testament to how completely the group had seemed to integrate that their activities were not split among racial lines.

Sylvanas and Jessir were practicing their archery, not just focused on accuracy but speed. The two of them firing sets of twenty arrows within ten seconds at multiple targets while moving or being forced to use cover. This may have been the oddest pair of the bunch, as Sylvanas, in addition to being undead, had been a High Elf in life, a banished sect of Jessir's Night Elf people that had been exiled thousands of years previous.

Similarly, Arko and Colette were crossing swords, though they were using weighted sticks while Anya called out touches for each, knowing her turn was next. She was also calling out encouragement to Arko who was matching Colette blow for blow. Again, outside of this group of people, normal everyday citizens of Azeroth would be shocked at the idea of two undead and a Night Elf training together.

Arko had a number of rough mornings recently, so it surprised Anya somewhat to see the Night Elf up and training this early in the morning. Anya could feel a small bit of eagerness and anticipation course through her, as the Sword of Gryffindor, which Harry had gifted her to destroy the Phylactery of Kel'thuzad, had sat almost entirely idle since that moment, and she wanted to become more proficient in its use if they encountered a situation that demanded it.

In complete contrast to the activities of the three sword fighters, Onyxia and Fleur were sipping tea together, something both had a fondness for, while they discussed magic. Onyxia was asking her more in depth questions about the use of the magic of Earth. While Fleur easily conceded that Harry was far more powerful than she was, and likely more skilled, she did have one advantage that Harry did not. He had never been a teacher.

While Fleur did not have near legendary Harry's experience with runes, she had been one of France's brightest students for a reason. She had also spent the past several years instructing her sister and other Veela as best she could while in hiding. This gave her the familiarity with explaining concepts and ideas that came up, and Onyxia was incredibly sharp as she strove to understand more of the magic she had seen Harry use. Fleur benefited as well, as the beginnings of the rather secretive magics of the dragons were explained, and sometimes even demonstrated to the woman.

A few feet away in the same building, Ysondre and Disidra both sat in eerily similar poses, with their legs drawn up underneath them reading one of a stack of books they had pulled from the now massive library. Their library now included all of the magical books from Harry's family library, which was arguably one of the best on Earth, now supplemented with the books they had liberated from Karazhan, which was an equally massive amount of information. The combined libraries were now scattered across multiple buildings, completely disorganized and waiting to be indexed.

That also didn't take into account the massive amount of non-magical books Harry had generously copied. Jessir had teased Kudrii about one of the small novels she had picked up to read while shopping with the group one day, since the decision was based solely upon the provocative picture on the front. Unfortunately, the teasing was returned tenfold later when Jessir was caught eagerly taking several to read herself.

However, the questionable reading material was nowhere in sight at the moment. Kudrii was hunched over a table completely focused as she studied two parchments with enchantments. One from Harry's library, the other from Karazhan as she meticulously compared the two.

Her prowess as an enchanter had skyrocketed since she had joined the group. At first, it was due to the sheer amount of information that Harry had purchased for her the day she first joined them. But, over the course of the many varied locations they had visited since that fateful day, she had seen and learned even more, so much that she now easily exceeded the abilities of all those who had scorned her back in the Exodar.

It was ultimately a lazy day, with no pressing needs as they recovered from the experience of Karazhan and Harry's side trip with Colette. There were tentative plans on what they would pursue next, but all of that hinged on numerous factors, from Harry's rate of healing, to any possible breakthroughs the Flamels might introduce, to requests of their allies, and just simply spontaneous suggestions that originated from their own group.

The relaxed atmosphere abruptly changed when a tremendous roar nearly deafened all present. All of them immediately froze as the sound reverberated over them, so loud it shook the very ground beneath them.

Both Onyxia and Ysondre looked at each other for just a moment before sprinting quickly outside, searching for the source of the easily recognizable draconic roar.

They froze a few strides out the door, only to be pushed slightly as the others ran after them following their example. They stared up at the cliff at the outline of a truly massive dragon. With the light of the setting sun outlining him in the eyes of the observers the shape just appeared as a massive dark outline of a dragon.

Ysondre's voice came first and there was no mistaking the shock and fear in it, she spat out the name of one of the few dragons she knew was large enough to match what they were seeing.

"It's him! The Destroyer… Deathwing!" Even as she finished speaking she was striding forward shifting into her dragon form, knowing she was no match for the most powerful of all dragons.

Onyxia was a step behind her, and was also shifting. Behind her she could hear the remaining members of their group scrambling for their gear and sprinting toward the cliff. Out of the corner of her eye, her enhanced vision spotted the other member's of Fleur's species scrambling for cover, no doubt panicking at the intrusion into their previously thought safe home.

She couldn't help the shiver of fear that went down her spine. Her father was far more powerful than she was, not to mention twice as large as her, if not more. For just a moment, she had considered fleeing, but an instant later tossed that thought away. She wasn't going to abandon this group that had become so important to her. She had yet to put a name to them, but they had become as important as the survival of her flight.

Even as she shifted into her full form, she felt something was off. Her father had a very distinct presence especially after the creation of the demon soul. The dragon before them was powerful, at the very least matching her in fact. She could easily feel that from where she now stood. But, it wasn't quite the same as the last time she had the misfortune of bowing before her father during one of his rampages. Deathwing's power was far more focused and oppressive than what she was feeling right now.

As she rose to the air and her perspective shifted, as the light of the setting sun no longer obscured a more clear vision of the dragon in question. She also saw Ysondre hesitating in flight, clearly seeing the same things she was seeing.

This dragon was not her father.

The dragon in front of her had black scales, and did not seem to surrender much in the way of size to her father… at least how big he used to be before his body expanded and couldn't contain his power any longer without welding plates of elementium on himself. In actuality, the dragon before her was possibly a bit smaller than Alexstrasza, yet most certainly bigger than herself or Ysondre.

But without the sun in her eyes it was now easy to tell differences between the dragon before her and her father's original uncorrupted form.. This dragon was jet black, though it's underside was a lighter color, hovering between a very dark blue and a lighter shade of black. His crown of horns was also very different from her father's. But what stood out most of all was that beneath the black scales, streams of energy seemed to pulse in rivers up the length of his body, legs, and wings, with little bolts of the energy escaping from between the scales like miniature lightning.

It was as they approached him in the air, that she finally saw the truly oddest characteristic of the dragon. Its eyes. They were a vivid, slitted green. A color that was unlike any other dragon Onyxia had ever seen outside of the Green Dragonflight. A color that had no business whatsoever being seen on a Black Dragon.

A color that reminded her almost immediately of the shade of green she saw whenever she looked into Harry's eyes.

There was no way to stop the words that almost bellowed from her mouth after that realization, "Please tell me you didn't drink that potion without telling any of us in advance."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ysondre's head turn sharply towards her, then, just as quickly, turn back to the dragon that Onyxia somehow knew was Harry.

She watched as the enormous dragon tilted and lowered its head, a movement that clearly was abashed.

"Um. Okay, I won't tell you?" Harry replied in a deep rumbling voice as both Ysondre and Onyxia settled on the ground slowly.

"Harry?!" Ysondre echoed more in disbelief than in confirmation.

There was a deep rumbling sound that was clearly chuckling from the dragon. "Glad you recognized me, Ysondre."

Onxyia and Ysondre were both taken aback as Harry's words came out in clear draconic. He seemed completely unaware of it, instead turning his head as he stretched his wings to their widest extent, moving them experimentally.

After a moment he seemed to shrug slightly and began to flap wings, it only took a moment to push himself further into the air. He seemed to be disoriented for a moment in the air and almost fell back to the ground but seemed to catch himself and then after a moment's hesitation shot into the air like an arrow from a bow.

-o0o0o-

He was flying!

It felt easy, natural, and felt fantastic. He was also adjusting to the feeling of pure power his body seemed to illicit inside of him. He felt free. Like something long dormant inside of him had been awakened and would not be restrained again.

As he began to rise into the air, despite no longer having his feet on the ground, he could feel a connection to the very earth itself. Just a casual observation revealed massive energies that had been touched by another dragon's claws. Since there was only one other Black Dragon nearby, he assumed Onyxia had used the gifts bestowed upon all members of the Black Dragonflight to stabilize the cliff upon which the temple stood.

He was touched that Onyxia had done all this work and yet had never told anyone. This apparent new sixth sense allowed him to easily see the finer details of each and every facet of how she had strengthened the foundation of their home. Once again, the dragoness had surprised him with her actions, and the feelings it evoked rushed forward, making instincts he didn't recognize take control.

Harry made no attempt to restrain the roar of triumph and delight that sprang from his jaws, a roar that rang clearly for miles around. To the ears of the Night Elves, Veela, Draenei, and Forsaken in the area, the roar sounded like a vicious battle cry, letting all for miles around know that this dragon had claimed this as his domain.

There were sensations and other random things in his head that he had no previous point of reference for. He instinctively how to breath fire. He knew how to belch a solitary fireball, as well as pour a continuous stream of flame which could turn a meadow into a lake of magma all through something tied to his very being as a Black Dragon.

He breathed fire, only he tweaked that tiny bit of his magic associated to the Earth, and instead of a reddish white flame, a purplish, borderline black inferno erupted from his mouth.

Shadowflame.

Done with treating fire as a toy, he decided to test his wings, barely cognizant that he was no longer alone in the air, yet not connecting the dots that they would view him as a threat.

Harry began to fly in a graceful circle around Onyxia and Ysondre, roaring a second time. To the women on the ground, the roars, which came only from the unknown dragon, seemed to both challenge and threaten the two female dragons into submission, making both hold their position in the air and made them wary to advance further.

To Ysondre's and Onyxia's ears, the battle cry was much more plebeian.

"$~Oh fuck yeah this is so damned awesome. You both have no clue… Well, yeah, I guess you would.~$"

The sheepish way he finished his roar in draconic may have sounded monstrous to start, but almost made the two females fall over in disbelief at the gurgled honk it ended with.

"Harry…"

Ysondre's voice was a low rumble, so low in fact that, if Harry actually had hair instead of scales, he knew they would be all standing on end. As it was, the scales that covered Harry's transformed armor gave a shiver that was nearly painful. Harry knew that, in this form, he was nearly twice Ysondre's size, yet the sound of her rumbling tone sunk into his mind and told him that she was a dragon to be feared at the moment.

"Get on the ground...now!"

Without thinking, Harry allowed himself to fall to the ground in front of the temple, which was not far from the now fully armed group of women that was now fully prepared for war.

"Transform back!" roared Onyxia as she landed. Ysondre was only a half second behind her touching down on the ground.

Harry shuffled as he tried to figure out how to undo the process. He quickly went through every exercise and tip he recalled on how to revert a body back to its normal form after an animagus transformation. The instructions were fairly vague on this portion. He was supposed to focus on his original form and allow the change to occur. It was difficult and slow, but eventually, after roughly thirty seconds of effort, the massive magically infused black dragon he had transformed into transitioned back into his normal human form.

He looked down at his hands that were now back to human. He flexed them and marveled as he considered that the sensations he was experiencing now felt somewhat alien to him. It was an interesting feeling. Now that he was back in what should be his 'true form', he almost as if he was wearing some sort of human disguise. Sirius' old vague declarations that the instincts of the animal are brought forth fully from the subconscious never rung more true at the moment, only the idea of 'I am Dragon' seemed so much more intense than he'd believed it could be.

"Harry Potter!"

Repeated seven times.

Harry looked up sharply from his almost detached and clinical examination of his own hands in front of him as the sound of his full name shouted almost acapella-like from several women who were staring at him with various levels of disbelief and anger on their faces.

"Um… yes?" He inquired hesitantly, and more than a trifle sheepishly, as he looked around at the faces staring at him. He slowly lowered his hands down to his sides, almost in a manner that spoke of 'Nothing to see here' just ignore me. All that was missing from an external view of him was for Harry to start whistling innocently.

There was several moments of disbelieving silence as everyone there seemed uncertain of what to say.

The silence was broken by an unexpected voice.

"Are… you insane?!" screamed Kudrii, which caused nearly every person there to forget their anger at Harry and stare incredulously at the normally quiet and shy Draenic Priest.

She paid no attention whatsoever to the looks that everyone was sending her, and continued on into the rant that she was building into, "Do you have any idea how close you were to dying when you absorbed all that magic in Karazhan? That was less than a week ago! You, yourself said that your magic hadn't settled yet! And now you pull a stunt like this?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Kudrii uncharacteristically barreled right over any protest he had been about to make, "And you didn't think that might make us all just a little bit concerned when you finally deigned to attempt something you admitted that no one had ever tried before?"

When Harry didn't respond immediately, she nearly screamed at him, "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry, to his very limited credit, realized that any comments on how hot he thought Kudrii looked when angry wouldn't be appreciated at the moment. That quickly was replaced with the thought that there really was no good way out of this, and so he could only voice his own inner dread at what he'd just blundered into in a choked whisper that was unfortunately, still heard by all present.

"Um. Surprise?"

-o0o0o-

Two weeks after Harry's stunt with an animagus potion, Jessir gave her personal quarters in the former Temple of Elune of Azshara one last look before she nodded to herself. All in all, she was quite happy with the second home she'd managed to put together here in the ruins of one of her people's ancient and nearly forgotten cities. Everything she needed for their next expedition appeared to be packed, and all her worldly possessions that she wasn't taking with her were now perfectly safe here in Azshara under wards that she was sure that Queen Azshara's personal mages would have trouble cracking.

The idea that she considered her belongings safe at the moment almost forced a quiet chuckle from her mouth. Just a few 'doors' down, was the quarters of Sylvanas Windrunner, whom, before Harry had barreled into her life, Jessir would have never in a thousand years considered to be an ally, let alone the friend she had become.

Not far from the Forsaken Queen's quarter's was the room of Onyxia, a Black Dragon princess who had been threatening the peace of Azeroth for thousands of years. Now though, instead of fearing for their lives like Jessir would've expected, the manipulative dragoness was now on their side, helping them in exchange for their eventual aid with elevating her possibly to the position of Earth Aspect if they were ever able to depose her father from his throne.

She shut the door to her quarters, waving a hand over the elaborate locking mechanism on it. Harry was the only one who could enter any room at will. It was decided that, despite having essentially absolute safety here, they would still implement locks on private quarters to allow some privacy and time alone for themselves.

'Or time alone with Harry,' she thought with a smug grin. Last night had been her time alone with Harry, and she was sure she'd kept him up at least two hours more than he had planned for.

Jessir made her way down to the central hall of the Temple, and made her way out into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day. The almost perpetual autumn leaves of the native trees of Azshara gave a golden glow to the mountains that surrounded the half ruined city.

It wasn't quite as picturesque as the few untainted areas of Quel'thalas the group had seen while visiting places important to Anya's and Sylvanas' past, nor her own memories of the quiet forests of Moonglade and Ashenvale before the Third War, but it was a very close third. In the quasi-pavilion area before the temple, most of their group was assembled, and there were a few of the other new inhabitants of the partially reclaimed city present to see the group off on their latest adventure.

Life had slowly begun to return to this part of the city, mainly due to the efforts of Harry's solitary 'male' friend that had been willingly dragged along to Azeroth. The lone person from Harry's personal past from Earth, Neville Longbottom, was here specifically at the moment to see his friend off. The two Earth Wizards had barely seen one another since being reintroduced a few short months earlier after an apparent absence of several years.

Neville had barely settled into his home, and most of his trunks remained unpacked in the entrance hallway of the reassembled manorhouse that the tiny elves he employed had moved to this world after disassembly. Some of his attention was diverted toward learning about the ancient and extremely complicated Night Elf culture he found himself thrown into on an almost daily basis. However, he was much more focused on creating a process to siphoning the fel energies away from Teldrassil.

Jessir had no idea how that process was going. It was something that had stumped the minds of greatest druids for years, but that was without knowing that Fandral Staghelm had betrayed their people and was working in concert with the Old Gods to create and corrupt the tree. Her mentor, Jaelyn, had spoken quite well of Neville the few times she had been able to inquire on return trips to her people's capital city, but details had been extremely hard to extract from the ancient hunter.

Word had spread quickly that one of Harry's friends from his home world, who according to Harry, was trusted with Harry's life and whom Harry considered nearly as competent in battle. He was also incredibly skilled in variants of the strange and versatile magic that Harry used so frequently. But Neville focused his magical pursuits into the understanding of nature instead of shadows like Harry. The man had answered Harry's call for aid, and would be in Darnassus to aid Malfurion personally.

Jessir had heard whispers from friends that Neville spent a great amount of time simply wandering Teldrassil in no discernable pattern or direction. Also quite unusual was knowledge from his rotation of watchers, who had discerned that he was sleeping at rare and irregular intervals. They talked of the way his eyes and hands glowed occasionally when he laid them on the tree, and how he spent hours whispering words that were unintelligible even to the sharp ears of the Kaldorei.

It wasn't that they couldn't hear the words he spoke, it was that they couldn't understand what it was that he was saying.

The fact that Malfurion spent much of his free time with the newly arrived human, and simply observed, often leaving after lending his tacit approval, had rumors awhirl among the Night Elves. Of course their group almost always had several other druids as well who seemed to be in awe of the way he communicated with plants around him effortlessly.

Ultimately, Jessir wasn't sure Neville had spent more than a night or two in his new Azeroth home in Azshara since he had first arrived on this world. When she had mentioned this to Harry, he had simply snorted and rolled his eyes, saying he was completely unsurprised, as Neville's obsession with plants made Harry's interest in runes seem like an idle curiosity.

She couldn't help but giggle when she thought of the man. A year had passed since Harry's arrival on Azeroth from Earth, and his exploits had made him known to nearly all of the Night Elf people. He had become an enigma who was rarely seen in Teldrassil, but whose achievements and unorthodox ideas had firmly changed the way her people had viewed humans, at least from other worlds besides Azeroth.

Her amusement concerning the situation was not due to the fact that a 10,000 year old leader of her people sought aid from a human who was the slightest fraction of his age. No, her humor came from the fact that many of her fellow Sentinels felt that, since Harry was out of reach romantically because he had been linked to so many females, that Neville would be an appropriate consolation prize.

She knew that many had expressed their interest in him already, though had not heard of any that had actually bedded him, though she assumed it would only be a matter of time.

Jaelyn was even running a betting pool on when it would happen. Jessir had her bet in and had gone double or nothing in against Onyxia. She felt a little betrayed when Arko had bet against her as well.

If Neville could slow the rate of corruption, or Elune willing, actually cure Teldrassil of the demonic taint that infected it, Jessir knew that his stature would make him a legend amongst her people for saving the latest World Tree. He would have as much gratitude from the Night Elves as Harry did, if not more. Then he would be fighting to keep a parade of women from his bed.

Jessir knew that Harry had also quietly had a word with the Flamels. He had seen so many quasi-immortal Night Elves pursuing romantic interests with his still very mortal human friend, and wanted to remove that barrier for Neville. Although Jessir also wondered if he wanted to ensure that he didn't lose his best friend like he had lost everyone else.

The Flamels, who were also enjoying the challenges presented to them in this new world had agreed that it would be Neville's for the asking. However when Harry had told Neville about the potential offer, the other man had smiled mysteriously and simply said, "Perhaps."

He hadn't pushed it, but Jessir wondered if Harry recognized the mischievous look on the other man's face that so often adorned his own when he knew something the rest of them didn't. She wondered what Neville knew that the rest of them didn't.

At the thought of the Flamels, she glanced over to where the two seemingly ordinary humans stood off to the side. They too had been made aware that today was a departure day, and chose to not travel to the Undercity this morning in order to send them off.

Rumors had already widely spread about their presence amongst the inhabitants of the Undercity, despite the Forsaken leadership's best efforts to keep it quiet. Security had risen to a level which almost completely stifled any intellectual thinking that could be done, but none doubted the claims that the enemies of the Forsaken, along with the spies of the Burning Legion and Scourge, would do almost anything to ensure that a cure to the undead Plague never was completed.

They had actually had one partial success already, only a month after their arrival on Azeroth. A dog that had been afflicted with the undead plague had been brought back to life. However, it was not deemed a complete success, as the dog had howled and whined in pain quite horribly during the transformation. Afterwards, while it had been alive, it had been unresponsive to most stimuli.

The Flamels determined that it exhibited symptoms similar to overexposure to what they called the Cruciatus curse. Both Harry and Fleur had shuddered at that comment. They had put the beast out of his misery, and they deemed it too painful of a solution to be viable. Despite that, it was a start, and provided some hope.

There was also another major roadblock which prevented this from being considered a viable method of bringing the living dead back to life. The method was hardly efficient, and had utilized far more resources than they desired. After all, there was no true point in celebrating a 'success' if they could only do half a dozen people a day and then bankrupted the Forsaken people in a few short months after only succeeding to revive a small percentage of their overall population.

Until those concerns were addressed, the Flamels were not allowing anyone to undergo the procedure. But Nathanos Blightcaller, who had settled nicely into the role of leader of the Forsaken, had allowed the news to spread quietly, and the moral boost that it provided the Forsaken was exactly the sort of thing Sylvanas had wanted when the Banshee Queen originally joined their group.

Jessir had been wary of Sylvanas' intentions at first. The idea in fact had been ludicrous to the Night Elf. Sylvanas, an established leader of an entire faction of people, had resigned her post in order to go back into the field to provide inspiration to her people who lacked something to believe in beyond revenge.

It had not made sense to Jessir at first, but now she truly comprehended both the genius of the original idea, and just how her success had ultimately exceeded the Banshee Queen's wildest dreams. If, and most likely when, the Flame's completed their work, the Banshee's Queen's gamble would likely go down as one of those best decisions in the history of her people.

Jessir actually wasn't aware if anyone had even publicly denounced Sylvanas amongst the Forsaken for the decision to join Harry's group. Though the former Forsaken queen, had said she knew that some of her people were initially unhappy about it.

However Jessir seriously couldn't imagine anyone speaking against Sylvanas in light of what they'd accomplished. It was so fundamentally ground-breaking that she had a hard time merely imagining the military ramifications of such an event, let alone the political ones. Then, there was the giant question marks over how both the Alliance and Horde overall would respond.

Her thoughts of Sylvanas had made her involuntarily drift towards where the woman now stood, speaking to her confidante, Anya. Immediately, Jessir recognized that the conversation seemed quite personal by their stance, so she stopped in her tracks and looked around to see who else was already present.

A flash of blonde hair nearby caught her attention, and she saw Fleur standing somewhat alone, her younger sister having just finished speaking with her and was departing towards the rest of the congregated Veela present. Jessir didn't need to be a mind reader to know the Veela was experiencing one of her increasingly rare bouts of indecision as to where exactly in the group she fit in.

Jessir grinned internally at the opportunity presented. She changed direction and sauntered towards the human-like woman. She had yet to hear of the blonde joining in any of the extra-curricular activities the group enjoyed in their downtime, but resolved to continue making headway now.

'Well, what kind of leader would I be if I didn't ensure everyone feels welcome?' she thought as she walked up, purposefully keeping her eyes from dipping to the cleavage-bearing armor style of Azeroth that Fleur had adopted since coming to this world.

-o0o0o-

Anya had glanced over as Jessir had begun to stray towards her and Sylvanas, but was unsurprised to see her divert suddenly to speak with Fleur. Anya couldn't help but snort aloud at the action. Jessir had made no secret about the fact she wanted to get into the blonde Veela's bed, and the single-mindedness she had thus far pursued that goal was greatly amusing to almost all of them.

The ongoing question amongst the group wasn't whether the two would eventually be caught in a compromising situation, but whether Jessir would manage the same thing with any, or more likely all, of the twenty-two other Veela, including Fleur's sister, who now called Azeroth home.

All because of Harry.

Anya couldn't help but be amazed every time she saw that process take place. It was like Harry saw it as his duty to take on the problems of all those around him and to save them from whatever insurmountable fate the world had tried to impose upon them.

She personally had held Sylvanas in awe for the way the Ranger General had, through sheer force of will, managed to prevent the Forsaken from being destroyed by the Scourge or by the other races in the aftermath of the Third War as the woman had lead their people to their current state.

She very nearly worshipped Sylvanas for that. Her Ranger General had quite literally saved a whole race of people through her actions.

By current count, Harry was responsible for doing the same for something like half a dozen races through his own efforts.

She had heard from the Night Elves, as he did it for them in saving Malfurion Stormrage from traitors amongst their people. She had heard it from Onyxia, as he had practically singlehandedly saved the broodmother and possibly a very large remnant of the Black Dragonflight, from extinction due to the madness of Nefarion. He had taken on the burdens of the Forsaken in order to restore them to life from their deathlike state. He had saved four races simply by bringing them to Azeroth from his homeworld. And even that was not enough.

Thoughts concerning one's libido were never exactly high priorities amongst the undead members of the Forsaken such as herself. Hell, she had definitely gone at least a solid year or two in the past eight years since her death without even removing her armor. Now though, she had her body pampered on more than one occasion by Harry and Sylvanas, and she'd even temporarily lost control of her emotions after Harry had granted her the killing blow on Kel'thuzad and kissed him in front of over forty Forsaken Dark Rangers and Darnassian Sentinels.

Movement from the side distracted her, and she saw Colette Blaumeux and Disidra Stormglory walk out of the Temple together. An undead Paladin and a Draenei shaman. A pair almost as unlikely as Jessir and Sylvanas, at least to anyone unfamiliar with both.

Colette had taken her newfound freedom from the Lich King's grasp with two hands and wanted nothing more than to strengthen herself so that she could defend this group which had freed her from her slavery. Disidra would often be her companion in the library, silently offering encouragement while reading various tomes while Colette searched for obscure and random texts which may offer advantages to the group in future fights.

It was relationships like that which gave hope to Anya for the first time in many years. Previously, all that she, along with many of the Forsaken, had to look forward to was a nebulous and distant concept of possible revenge against the Lich King. Many knew however, that they wouldn't likely 'live' to see such a day arrive though.

Most secretly had believed, even if they had never spoken of it, that the living races of the world would eventually unite to purge the abomination that the Forsaken represented from the face of Azeroth, leaving their few ambitions unfulfilled and the hardships her people had endured likely wiped from the memory of the world.

Instead, she had found herself fighting alongside a motley crew of multiple races, many of which would normally kill a Forsaken on sight if they had been encountered in the wilds of Azeroth. Even more pronounced, was the recent victory over the floating Scourge city-sized necropolis of Naxxramas, which had been purged and liberated through a joint strike force of Forsaken and Darnassian fighters.

Harry had joined them in the time she had spent pondering the odd friendship that had manifested between Colette and Disidra. He was off to the side, speaking to a slightly familiar Earth-Goblin about something that seemed to have perplexed Harry

She had only heard vague rumors and a few details about what those Goblins had accomplished since their arrival on Azeroth. Some of their accomplishments absolutely frightened her. Ragnaros, the Elemental Fire Lord who had been a plague upon the central portion of the continent for well over a century, had been 'pacified' in a matter of weeks by the subterranean banker-warriors of Harry's world.

Word had not spread much further beyond Harry's or Tyrande's ears that the victory had already occurred, as the news would only encourage both Stormwind and Ironforge to push to try and claim the territories that lay between both kingdoms. In the months since Nefarian had fallen, neither kingdom had so much as glanced at the mountain which now contained only one enemy force instead of two, but no one held any illusions over what they'd do when they discovered that a new third party had moved in and taken over.

The Goblins, who showed a large sense of survival after realizing Azeroth Dragons were nothing like Earth's, had instead already moved to 'domesticate' the massive core-hounds that bred like rabbits in the subterranean molten caverns. Harry had laughed when he heard about that, and had already purchased one that had been tamed for a pet that would be delivered at some future date.

If it wasn't already demonstrated by his actions with the animagus potion, it was moments like that which made Anya realize Harry was insane. The kind of insanity that dragged you along and made you giddily nod along and agree with the path, despite knowing how stupid it was. You simply did it anyways.

And loved every minute of it.

One of the last people out of the group unaccounted for at the moment finally exited the Temple, and it was one she actually worried about under the current circumstances. Kudrii was a Draenei survivor of the demonic Horde's original sacking of the Draenei capital city of Shattrath; a city they would very likely step foot within the coming days or weeks.

The original Demonic Horde that had invaded Azeroth in the First and Second Wars had previously committed atrocities beyond comprehension upon the living and dead captured in that distant raid. Anya herself recalled interrogations from the first war, when the captive orc berserkers that had made it as far north as Lordaeron had proudly boasted of the glorious path of skulls and bones that paved the road from the famed Hellfire Citadel all the way to the Dark Portal's counterpart on the planet of Draenor.

The idea that the Orcs had actually butchered that many Draenei men, women, and children to pave a road miles long with their bones seemed so ludicrous that she almost immediately dismissed the idea decades ago when she had first heard of it...

...until Disidra had told them that the horrifying abomination of a road did indeed exist.

Disidra had been part of the vanguard of adventurers that had plunged headfirst into the Dark Portal after the Burning Legion attempted an invasion just prior to Harry being summoned to Azeroth. She never did talk much about what she saw on the other side of the demonic gateway when she had returned to the world she had been born, but the group had slowly learned over the long months of fighting alongside her that the sight of the pathway still gave her nightmares.

It was hard to really believe the modern Horde, run by orcs like Thrall and Saurfang speak of 'honor' when they had committed such an abominable atrocity in the past.

The idea of the road even existing was something that sent chills down her spine, especially if the Scourge were to ever gain a foothold in Draenor, but Harry felt like many of the others, that they needed to pass through the portal and see and pay respects to those who had fallen. Harry and a few of the others had already travelled directly to Shattrath on occasion, as the first 'interplanetary' mage portal Harry had been taught was how to tunnel his way magically through the Twisting Nether between worlds to Shattrath.

They would indeed skip the trip through the primary portal in the future for direct mage-conjured ones later, but this first one would be done just like all the other adventurers who had volunteered for this very same mission.

To dive head-first into an entirely different world.

"It is amusing to once again be able to see your thoughts expressed so clearly on your face," a voice cut across the various tangents her mind had taken.

She looked up to see Sylvanas beside her with a highly amused smirk directed towards her. It completely changed the way the undead High Elf looked. Sylvanas' emotions had, for at least the past decade, been carved from porcelain while occasionally extending out into snarls that made even the strongest of warriors soil themselves. This soft look, so close to what the woman had once looked like years ago when living, looked almost foreign upon her now.

"I'm not that bad," responded Anya, almost petulantly.

That comment elicited something she only rarely heard from Sylvanas anymore; a laugh.

"You haven't been. Not for a very long time," Sylvanas almost taunted her, a long-forgotten amused look in her burning red eyes, "I swear, it's almost as if you've already joined the living again."

Anya couldn't help but gape at her former General, and the former leader of her people. A personal jab was one thing, but a joke from Sylvanas had been unheard of since the woman had been brutalized both mentally and physically by Arthas prior to her conversion into a banshee.

"What vexes thee, m'lady?" asked Anya immediately. Something must have greatly affected Sylvanas for either comment to have ever been uttered by normally stoic woman.

Sylvanas was quiet for a few moments, the look of amusement sliding off her face so fast that Anya momentarily thought it had been illusion instead, shattered before her eyes to reveal the face devoid of emotion that had so had taken over her leader's face so often over these past few years. She watched as Sylvanas glanced to the side where the Flamels stood chatting. Her gaze lingered there for a few moments before she finally closed her eyes and looked down.

"Hope," she said. A simple word with no emotion attached to with her voice.

"Hope?" asked Anya cautiously and in a bit of confusion.

Sylvanas opened her glowing red eyes and glanced at Anya before setting her gaze on the perpetual autumn landscape of the Azsharan mountains that surrounded them. "Our people have merely 'existed' for so long. No Purpose, no goals. Nothing beyond our nebulous and unobtainable revenge against the Lich King. I strove for the longest time to provide them hope. That there was something there, something in the future that we could work towards that would be better… somehow."

She sighed, "It was a lie. A lie that I had to pretend was true. I had no hope myself for the future. No hope for myself. I did what i could though to ensure that none of my people lost hope. Not like I did so long ago."

She gestured briefly at the Flamel's, "Then Harry finds them. No warning, no hint at the crazy idea that was in his head. He simply produces these Humans of such casual bearing, yet bearers of such an important concept for us."

"Hope," repeated Sylvanas again. "Hope that I might someday soon greet my older sister again as a High Elf, rather than undead. I know it won't wash my hands of my sins, but to me at least, it would make a difference."

Finally, Sylvanas seemed spent somehow, and Anya could barely hear her final statement, "Hope. Hope that I could live up to whatever Harry somehow still sees in me. Something I thought was gone a long time ago."

"Hope," Anya repeated quietly through pursed lips. She herself had resolved to think as little about the potential 'cure' as possible until it was viable and literally placed into her hands. Hope was dangerous on occasion, and debilitating when it distracted you from your current duties.

She could hope all she wanted that she would someday be returned to the form of a living High Elf. But in the meantime, she was a part of the expedition that was about to go to Outland, where other worries, especially for Sylvanas, would wait around every corner.

Movement to the side got Anya's attention, and she saw the man at the center of everything moving forward from where he had been conversing with Neville Longbottom and a few Kaldorei druids that had joined them here in Azshara. A quick glance around told her that in the intervening moments, the last missing member of their group, the Green Dragon Ysondre, had returned from wherever she was and was ready to leave.

Harry conjured a large circular tube and pick it up, holding it aloft so that everyone could hold on to it. No words were spoken as the group all grabbed hold. A few waves and words of encouragement were said from the observers, but otherwise all was quiet as the group mentally prepared for what was about to happen. Another gesture from Harry made the circle glow a dull blue, before there was the sudden sensation of a hook being pulled from behind her navel.

By the Sunwell, did she hate Portkeys.

-o0o0o-

Harry trudged along the dried dirt path before him, his mind scarcely believing that, once more, Azeroth has surprised him.

Since he had arrived on this new world, he had seen amazing, ancient magical forests, and then sat in awe on a flying carpet as he ascended to the highest limbs and bows of a tree that was miles tall. He had traversed swamps hiding Dragons. Lands so sick with diseased demonic taints that he doubted anything healthy would grow there for a thousand years.

But this… this was beyond the pale.

Two demonically backed wars had turned what was once apparently a massive swamp, known only as the Black Morass, into a barren wasteland of sun-bleached bones, rusted and broken weapons, and the tattered banners and standards of long-dead and forgotten armies.

Demons actually roamed free here, almost as if they were the region's indigenous species. It was unlike the infestations he had aided the Sentinels in wiping out so long ago in Ashenvale. These were unorganized and random. Simple beasts present to waylay travelers as they mindlessly hunted for their next meal. Even the vultures that scoured the land seemed to a bit more ravenous and bloodthirsty than any other carrion eater he'd stumbled upon.

The closest he could compare these lands was to the barren wastelands he had once seen as the group had flown over a long-abandoned land simply known as Desolace back on the western continent. But, where the lands of Desolace reeked of long-since-forgotten battles of ancient times, filled with vultures who still picked fruitlessly upon kodo bones bleached white by the sun, this place still felt tainted somehow by the blood that had been so spilled here just a few decades earlier.

There was a foulness in the air, which could only be exacerbated by the recently re-activated demonically empowered interdimensional portal was somewhere a few miles up ahead.

The Blasted Lands… an apt name for such a terrible place.

Harry turned to Fleur, who had been staring blankly at the landscape, lost in her own memories.

"Seem familiar?" he asked quietly, though with no one in the group speaking, everyone heard the question.

"Oui," she quietly said, not bothering to look at Harry or the others. "Russia… Australia."

Ultimately, what was around them was very familiar to people on Earth. It was reminiscent of every area the Legion had managed to find a firm foothold and proceeded to thoroughly drain all the natural magics of an area, causing almost all life present to wither and die.

Everywhere they looked, was the remnants of past atrocities. Abandoned war wagons from the original Demonic Horde, along with the Alliance war machines that had been abandoned here when the Second War concluded when the Alliance Expeditionary force destroyed the portal from the other side, trapping themselves beyond the reach of those back here on Azeroth and abruptly ending the war on Azeroth, even if the war continued in Draenor.

Those silent inanimate remnants of past conflicts held no candle to the hundreds of skeletons of long dead soldiers, demons, and orcs which protruded through the parched earth almost everywhere they looked as the group walked. No one appeared to have ever set to rights the fallen from these battles, and the dead had been simply left to rot where they fell in this wasteland with the conclusion of the First and Second Wars.

The only true organized presence in the immediate area was a small fortress near the northern borders run by the mages of Dalaran. It was not equipped for war or even a protracted siege. The sole purpose of the Keep was to hold out long enough to simply send out a message in case the portal ever reopened. Those inside had once been willing to sacrifice every last person if it meant the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms were properly warned if the Burning Legion ever attempted to invade through the Dark Portal once more.

Unfortunately, the warning had done little good. Dalaran had isolated itself, leaving the mages here adrift with no supplies, reinforcements, relief, or contacts. Stormwind had long since decommissioned its mage tower after it had burned during the Second War. Meaning that while the mages were certainly capable of delivering a message when the portal reopened, there was no one to actually listen to it.

They were a watch tower that could not warn anyone.

He felt himself involuntarily glance at Sylvanas. The undead Banshee Queen had lost her older sister in the debacle that ended the Second War. He knew she secretly hoped that this journey might reveal the ultimate fate of Alleria Windrunner, as none of the vanguard of either the Horde or Alliance that had previously gone through the portal had reported back a single rumor or whisper about the lost former Ranger General of Quel'thalas.

If it wasn't for the ever-present lightning in the distance that was a constant presence over the Dark Portal, Harry would have been hard-pressed to even know if they had moved through the desolate landscape. Everything truly looked the same to him here.

Bones and withered rust-orange dirt as far as the eye could see.

The group slowly came upon the portal though, and found a base camp established upon a perimeter around the gothic construction as well as within the crater in front of it. Apparently, when the Alliance Expeditionary Force closed the portal at the end of the Second War, the energies unleashed blasted a crater nearly a mile wide outwards from the location of Azeroth's portal.

The remnants of the masonry from the reconstructed portal destroyed at the end of the Second War could be seen thousands of feet beyond the edge of the crater at the end of deep trenches cut into the ground by the debris as it was flung outwards.

As they stood upon the lip of the crater, they looked down upon an ant hill of activity that consisted of Alliance and Horde troops rushing through the tear in space and time. As they collectively watched those on this other side rush to relieve the front-line fighters beyond the Dark Portal who held back the demonic advance, Jessir couldn't help but ask a question aloud. While she posed her query, she turned specifically to Colette, who was the only formerly human present who may have the knowledge needed.

"So let me get this straight. The portal that the Demonic Horde utilized in the Second War exploded. The mages of Dalaran set a watch on the general area to ensure nothing like this happened again. But despite all this, some group snuck in, rebuilt something a hundred meters tall, brought the Legion's forces through… in the exact same spot the old portals used to be... and did this all under everyone's very noses?"

Colette could only shrug, "No one will ever claim the mages of Dalaran were, by any means, competent. Most of Dalaran's recent operations stayed functional only through Archmage Antonidas' force of will. If she had been present, Lady Proudmoore may have been able to hold them together after his death, but she'd long since fled to Kalimdor by the time of the Archmage's death at the hands of Arthas. Any mages stationed at Nethergarde Keep to watch over the Portal were most likely third rate flunkees who were assigned here as punishment."

"Most of the competent members of Dalaran's ruling council of Seven died during the sacking of the city by Archimonde," added Sylvanas. "Those that did live, only pay lip service to it now, if they even associate to the organization anymore. Prince Kael'thas, the traitor, can be found beyond that portal. Krasus, or Korialstrasz the Red Dragon, has had some involvement in events of the past decade or so, but only where his own or the Red Flight's interests have been threatened. Otherwise Krasus completely ignores the struggles of mortals."

Onyxia snorted, "Which follows that general politics of the Life-Bringer for the past half a dozen millennia. Unless it threatens her or her eggs, Alexstrasza will do nothing. Even when she was kidnapped and forced to breed eggs after the Second War, she still did nothing once freed."

"This is getting us nowhere," uttered Arko irritably.

Harry glanced over at her, she had been a little touchy for a few days, irritable as the date approached for their departure. He thought it rather unfair that she was likely still angry about his animagus debacle, which he assumed was at the heart of her anger. At least he hoped that was it. Harry was in no way willing to ask if what she was feeling was the equivalent of a night elf's time of the month.

"Arko's right," interjected Jessir, breaking the discussion up as she pointed up ahead of them. "The portal is there. Let's get this over with."

They carefully traversed the blast crater's edge down to where troops were massing. Highly visible amongst the troops was an extremely large Argent Dawn presence stationed, comprising almost all of the races of Azeroth, and apparently acting as the security around the Dark Portal. The group, which had originally been founded to help battle the Scourge in the Plaguelands of Lordaeron in the far north of this continent, had been redeployed in recent months due to Harry's own group's efforts in cleaning up the region.

Ultimately, what lay before them now was the rear guard of a military force, and there were numerous officers present, surrounded by grunts and squires of both the Alliance and Horde scurrying about to accomplish their tasks. By the organized chaos present it was easy for experienced eyes to see that, just beyond the portal some kind of battle was taking place. This group was what was holding back the tide judging by the frantic movement of supplies and relief troops which rushed through the portal.

Sylvanas, being a well-recognized figure of both sides of the conflicts of the world, as well as the Argent Dawn that operated on her former land's borders, slipped into a role of leader easily and walked straight to the defense's commanders.

"What is the situation here?" she asked in a voice that dripped with military authority. It was an order to all present, and not a request. There were times that the banshee element of her voice was very useful, as no one could easily ignore it.

Military discipline caused every head nearby turned to address the voice that spoke in a tone that demanded acknowledgement. More than half the eyes now glued to Sylvanas widened instantly in recognition of who she was, and more than half of those remained mimicked the response after only a few seconds.

"Lady Windrunner?" asked a voice from near the large war table that was the centerpiece of the entire encampment. "Who is that accompanying you?"

Sylvanas, whose face was half concealed under her ever-present hood, merely cocked her head at the one who had the gall to question arguably one of the strongest beings on the planet who wasn't a Dragon or named Arthas.

The 'voice' stepped forward. It was a tall paladin, dressed in Argent Dawn regalia that was quite distinctly from the forges of Stormwind. This was corroborated by the half-dozen Stormwind Marshalls that flanked him as guards.

Sylvanas seemed to be slightly annoyed by the question, as her own wasn't answered, and let it show in her response, "My companions are those that defeated Nefarian and liberated the Upper Spire of Blackrock Mountain. They are those that defeated Kel'thuzad. They are the ones who freed the minds of the Four Horseman from the shackles of slavery, one of whom now stands behind me as allies."

Harry almost smirked at everything that Sylvanas didn't say. Broker of peace with a splinter faction of the Black Dragonflight. Negotiator of a tentative alliance with the Green Dragonflight. Impetus of a massive political shift in Night Elve leadership, along with aiding Tyrande Whisperwind identify where Malfurion Stormrage's kidnapped body had been hidden. Infiltrators and plunderers of the famed tower of Karazhan. Finally, he was the facilitator of an invasion of a mountain fortress on both Stormwind's and Ironforge's doorsteps by a race previously unknown to Azeroth, ensuring that neither the humans or dwarves would control Blackrock Mountain.

All of which, if known, would likely anger more than a few people in Stormwind since every one of those events was deliberately being kept somewhat quiet for the time being.

The paladin seemed to recognize just who this group was immediately, and visibly began to search their faces. His eyes immediately landed and focused upon Harry's.

He stepped forward, "I am Lord Marshal Raynor, right hand of High Lord Bolvar Fordragon and commander of Stormwind's legions within the Argent Dawn."

Harry didn't say anything, at least until Onyxia thumped him in the back. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Harry Potter."

Raynor nodded, "Your deeds proceed you. I have been given orders by the King of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn. He commands that, should any human of Stormwind encounter the human that travels with such…. company, that they relay the King's orders for you to present yourself before his majesty for judgement of your actions."

"Your King is ordering me?" asked Harry, an amused look on his face that threatened to break out into full-blown laughter. It was easily tempered by the almost visible disgust which the paladin referred to the rest of Harry's companions. "Under what authority do you and your King command me to do anything?"

Before Raynor could respond, Harry spoke loudly and clearly, so that all within earshot could hear, "My King is William the Fifth, who ascended to the throne after his grandmother Elizabeth the Second abdicated five years ago. Never have I sworn allegiance to someone named Varian, and I utterly reject your attempt to usurp the authority which only the King of England might try and claim over me."

"There is no other human kingdom," Raynor practically roared, oblivious to the looks of amusement the conversation had generated from the women that surrounded Harry. It certainly wasn't as if Harry had actually spoken a lie.

"Whatever your foolish beliefs," drawled Onyxia, and her voice cut the tension that had generated like a knife, focusing the attention of all listening members of both the Horde and Alliance upon her. "I do believe the likelihood of our companion following your orders are nil. Embarrassing yourself in front of your subordinates and tentative allies merely weakens your already tenuous position further."

"What you want doesn-" he started to say, but Jessir, who had grown tired of the entire conversation spoke up.

"No, what you want doesn't matter, Marshall. And I believe Lady Windrunner asked you a question. What is the current status here? I do believe that, even if she has stepped down as Leader of the Forsaken, her role as the retired Ranger General of Quel'thalas demands respect, which you will show to her. After all, it was a Ranger General, her older sister Allieria, which helped your razed kingdom defend themselves during the second war when your forces were being destroyed."

No one present outside of Harry's group had ever seen a Night Elf speak in defense of a Forsaken, and there were more than a few mouths open in astonishment at the event.

"We're waiting," stated Arko, speaking for the first time. Her voice held clear annoyance as she removed the Ashbringer from the harness on her back and leaned on the purified legendary sword, which she did after she had stabbed it into the ground before her. The weapon was a legend amongst Argent Dawn members that surrounded them, and Harry half expected some fool to demand that she relinquish it to their custody.

The relatively minor detail that the former and rightful owner of the sword had given it to Arko would have likely never played into the conversation even if they knew that little fact.

Raynor himself couldn't help but stare at the legendary sword for a few moments before he focused on Arko. He swallowed roughly at the hard look she gave him, which was shared by almost everyone around the group. It certainly didn't help the Marshall's confidence that Arko'narin was easily two full feet taller than Raynor. The horde troops and commanders present had instantly seen the Sigil of Thrall worn proudly on the shoulder of each person, and the Horde's leadership had most certainly spread the news far and wide just who this group was and what services they had rendered their faction.

The idea that the person who provided the information that let the Horde put down the Forsaken coup d'etat before it even began was going to be charged with treason by a kingdom he didn't even belong to did not sit well with them.

Raynor looked to desire to continue his obstinacy, but was silenced by an enormous armored hand, larger than the human's head, falling on his shoulder. Turning around, Raynor actually had to look almost straight up at the massive male Draenei that towered at least three and a half feet over him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, which was all that was needed for control of the situation to be ceded to the obviously more powerful individual.

Before the Draenei could say anything, his other two companions, an orc and a human, who had gone unnoticed to this point seemed to take center stage.

The human, who was another paladin, judging from the ornate holy libram at his side and massive warhammer strapped to his back, was the one to speak first. He was a rather imposing figure, and his armor seemed to be made of truesilver, with bright enchanted topaz inlaid throughout the designs. The helm even seemed to have glowing blue crystals that acted as goggles to protect the man's eyes.

The most striking portion though that seemed to draw attention to him were the large spikes on his pauldrons and helm. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized they were actually stylized wings, which made Harry immediately recall images of Apollo or Icarus from almost long-forgotten Greek history references in muggle school.

"Raynor, go cool off in your tent. Obviously your watch shift has given you delusions of grandeur, since this clusterfuck we stand upon is my command, shared with Warlord Dar'toon."

The human gestured next to him to one of the most physically imposing orcs Harry had seen besides Saurfang and Thrall himself. Harry had been given numerous crash-courses on ranks within each races factions, and the fact the orc had been given a command and held the title of Warlord meant he was not to be trifled with.

The armor the hulking green monstrosity bore looked like it may have originally been intended as armor for mundane tanks back on Earth. Harry thought that the orc could likely survive a RPG round the face if the two inch thick steel plates that covered his body were any indication. The fact the orc wore that much solid metal and still moved without issue meant that he could likely squash half the people present like bugs without trying.

Raynor moved away, flanked by only a few other individuals who all seemed to have shared the same opinion as him, and not surprising, all human. In a forward base staffed by members of every race on Azeroth, the fact that it was just a small group of humans causing trouble was both promising and troublesome in its implications.

"Now," said the human paladin who had interrupted Raynor and sent him away. "I am Watch Commander Relthorn Netherwane, and I'm in charge of this base with Warlord Dar'toon."

Relthorn gestured behind him to the nearly eight foot tall male Draenei who stood like a silent sentinel. "This is Advisor Sevel, on assignment from the Prophet's personal Security Council, who has been giving us intelligence on the lay of the land and how to make a better foothold on the other side as we shift troops to and from the front."

He looked at Sylvanas, "Now, I believe you asked a question, Lady Windrunner?"

Sylvanas simply nodded, waiting for the information the group needed to proceed once on the other side.

"In a word, we're fucked," he said bluntly. "The Legion has begun a new assault on the Portal, and it's only the fact we were stationed here that's allowed us to hold the other side. The limited word we've received is that there was a massive shift in the Legion's deployed forces on the other side and that they've shifted assets from their pursuit of Illidan Stormrage towards the reacquisition of the Portal to Azeroth. We think they've set up new summoning portals to the Twisting Nether between the portal and Hellfire Citadel, but this hasn't been confirmed. The demons launched a rather large attack on us that was repelled too easily, so our estimation was that the entire skirmish was merely a distraction for them to get the portals set up and their troops entrenched around them."

Harry glanced at this group, wondering if the alternative firepower that a few of their members had, including himself, would be enough to change the tide of this newest engagement. He caught Sylvanas' eye a moment before she too glanced at Ysondre and Onyxia, the same line of thought obviously occurring to her as well.

After a few moments, he saw her give a brief nod to herself, and she turned back to Relthorn, "I believe we may be able to make our way to these portals and shut them down."

Relthorn, to his credit, didn't openly gawk at Sylvanas for this statement like many of his compatriots did. He merely stared at her, judging the merits of trusting the woman who most members of the Alliance would normally run screaming into the hills away from.

Eventually, Relthorn seemed to give attempting to dissuade Sylvanas from the course she had apparently set for the group of adventurers up as a bad job.

"Far be it for me to convince you to not do this," he said with a shake of his head. "I think you're going through that portal to your deaths if your objective is to take the source of the demon on your own, but your deeds give me some small hope that this won't be the last we see of you all."

Warlord Dar'toon, who to this point had not spoken, gave a grunt of agreement, though surprised all when he said, "Perhaps it's time we commit fully to this. Empty this camp and provide our own distraction while the Banshee Queen destroys the enemy encampments from behind."

Relthorn looked long and hard at his co-commander, then turned back to Sylvanas. "Your group has a solid means to definitely get behind enemy lines?"

It wasn't often that Sylvanas smiled. Harry had seen the woman laugh in private at jokes her Rangers spoke, most often Anya. She had seen the proud look she had given when she realized her gamble to seek out Harry may actually bear fruit through the efforts of the Flamels.

The smile seen from the lower half of her shrouded face held none of the warmth those earlier smiles did.

"Don't worry about us, Watch Commander," she said in a voice that sent chills down the spines of almost every being present. "Those portals, if they're there, will fall."

Harry almost laughed as he saw the visible shudder affect the man. Eventually, the paladin regained his wits, and shouted to the listening crowd of soldiers, "You heard her. Begin preparation to retake the Path of Glory. We will not sit hiding like frightened children anymore! Move out!"

The outpost moved into frantic motion to carry out their newly given orders, leaving Harry and company to set their eyes upon the portal itself. It was a rather maudlin sight. Essentially a square doorway above a ramp, littered with demonic symbolism with both the left and right supports 'guarded' but cloaked figured with swords pointed downwards in repose.

The portal itself was a smokey green swirl that looked to be comprised of the foulest energies available. Harry and the members of the group sensitive to magic tried not to dwell on the obvious fact that numerous beings were likely sacrificed in order to empower such a thing, and that the sickly remnant of the agonies endured now colored the visible event horizon of the portal.

There was hesitation for only a moment, before Jessir spoke, "Well, let's get this over with."

The group moved out, and only Sylvanas, in a move in stark contrast to her earlier confidence, hesitated before moving.

Most of the members of their group noticed the pause, but it was Anya and Harry that actually moved to her in concern.

To almost anyone else who didn't know the Banshee Queen, she seemed to be her normal, impassive self. However, both Harry and Anya had instantly recognized, by the slightly downward tilt of her head, that she was deeply distracted now by her own thoughts.

Anya seemed to know exactly what troubled her leader, and that was enough for Harry. In an uncharacteristic show of support, Anya moved forward, shielding Sylvanas from view of the rest of the gathered troops, and gripped Sylvanas' armored hand. With a slow, yet purposefully tug, she pulled Sylvanas forward. Neither Harry nor Anya spoke as they moved beside the undead High-Elf. Neither attempted to offer words of comfort.

The ramp that the rest of the group had already ascended looked like it had seen countless battles, and it probably had. Harry winced as he realized that two separate wars had been fought over a portal in this crater, and now a massive defense was being launched to keep an all-out war from spreading again across this planet.

At the end of ten years of war on Earth against the Burning Legion, Harry had hoped to never truly see another demonic army in his life.

Somehow he knew, that was exactly what he was going to witness in moments on the other side of this demonic gateway.

At the top of the ramp, all three stood stock still for a moment, looking at the swirling vortex of nether energies that gave no hint towards just what lay on the other side of the portal. It was simultaneously an awe-inspiring and terrifying sight to behold.

After watching the Dark Portal for half a minute, Harry spoke up. He didn't want to leave the rest of the girls who had already gone through alone for too long.

"Time to go," he said quietly.

Two nods were his only response, and a Dark Ranger, Forsaken Banshee Queen, and a Runemaster stepped through the Dark Portal, leaving the world of Azeroth behind.

-o0o0o-

Raynor watched as the group of dissidents, heathens, and abominations moved through the Dark Portal. He couldn't believe that a pack of animals like that had gained the respect of so many, and figured it was just the Banshee Queen using her Fel Magics and finally managing to use her wiles to tempt the leadership of the barbarians amongst the Horde into following her lead. The bitch was a dirty elf to begin with, and that was even before she became the undead aberration she now was. That only made the whole situation worse.

He glanced at those who surrounded him. These paladins and soldiers were loyal to a fault to the King of Stormwind, and would do anything in his name. These were sons and daughters of soldiers who had served Stormwind for generations, and were still vividly aware that it was an Orc assassin who had cut down King Varian's father after he believed the animal to be a tamed pet and fully under his thrall.

Never again.

The only thing he and the rest would trust until the end of their days was a Human wearing the colors of Stormwind.

"Corporal?" he said to his own personal Second in Command.

"Sir," responded the man simply to his right quietly, watching the group move off just the same as he had been.

"Have a rider prepared to go to Stormwind in twenty minutes. Best speed. I'll have a letter composed by then to be delivered for the King's eyes only."

Raynor glanced back at the portal where the human who refused to work with the proper leader of his race had just departed almost arm in arm with Sylvanas herself.

'You can't run forever, traitor,' thought Raynor before he turned to his tent to compose a message to the one rightful leader of the humans of this world, the King of Stormwind.

Not whoever this… 'William' was...

-o0o0o-

The transition through the portal was yet one more unique experience for Harry. He had stepped through three kinds of portals up to this point in his life. The portal that connected Platform 9 ¾ with a separate building that housed the Hogwarts express rail line. He had passed through a portal that connected the base of the New World Tree Teldrassil with the Night Elf City of Darnassus high in its boughs. Finally, he had learned to create his own personal portals to connect distant points and even return across time and space to Earth.

The Dark Portal was something of a different breed.

Vividly, he was aware of the feather-light touch filthy fel-magic as he stepped through, a lingering legacy of the hundreds of people who were likely sacrificed to open this gateway. The travel was completely instantaneous. There was no brief moment of transition, with glimpses of the Twisting Nether or the darkness between worlds. Instead, it was as if a veil was suddenly torn like wet tissue paper and he was instantly not where he was a moment previous.

The air of the Blasted Lands was dry, caustic, and hot. Even then, the new blast of hot air in his face as he centered himself was the first thing he noticed. It was just like the Blasted Lands, but it was if whatever corruption has tainted that part of Azeroth had been allowed to fester for far longer here.

The next thing he noticed was the landscape; so different from the Blasted Lands, yet far too similar for his tastes. The land was almost a featureless dull reddish orange, broken up by harshly risen mountains that spoke of the cataclysm that had affected the entire planet when Ner'zhul had attempted to flee the remnants of the Alliance's Expeditionary Force twenty years previous.

The planet's horizon and sky seemed to somehow open up onto space itself, yet there was caustic yet breathable air surrounding them all. It was one of the things that, conceptually made no sense at all according to every law of physics he knew, so in the end, he was forced to declare the old tried and true excuse for things like this.

Magic. P.F.M. Pure Fuckin Magic.

The immediate area grabbed his attention after only a moment's worth of observation around. The Outland side of the Dark Portal was almost as tall as a small skyscraper. It dwarfed the portal on Azeroth, and this one had obviously been constructed with the thought that it would allow massive Demonic Orc armies to march across multiple worlds.

Ahead of them, most of his girls stood atop a dais that look down upon the area that lead up to the Dark Portal. Sylvanas, Anya and Harry stepped forward to see what had captured their attention.

Some, were focused on the numerous Horde and Alliance troops waging war side by side with each other against a massive battalion of demons attacking at the very base of the Portal.

For two in the group, the view was bittersweet. This was a homecoming of sorts for Disidra and Kudrii. Both were focused on the sight before them, but not on the demons themselves, but the road which they marched upon.

A road paved with the bones of hundreds of thousands of dead Draenei.

"Welcome to my former home," said Disidra with a strained smile after a few moments.

"Mine too," added Kudrii as a whisper.

"This place was once known as Draenor, the home of refugees fleeing the Legion," Disidra added in a bitter tone. "Now, after what Ner'zhul did, it is known as the shattered world of Outland."

-o0o0o-

Author's Notes:

Wait, what? A New story? Why?

Kat and I agreed that it was kinda "odd" to keep the main story going at this point, especially with the uh… 'break' I took from posting my own stories. Much as my ego needs to be inflated by high review counts, we figured we'd do a "chapter restart" so that people who are interested can possibly jump in without having to read that massive first part if they were lazy.

Also, we figured the true start of content from the "Burning Crusade" expansion was a good place to do so, even though we already did a bit of it in Karazhan from the last chapter. The act of going through the portal means we've hit the next expansion.

Thus begins the events of associated with Outland. In other words, the content mainly associated to World of Warcraft's first expansion: 'The Burning Crusade' which came out back in January of 2007. I'm going to continue to try and do my best and insert fun stuff concerning the game that are "in-jokes" that only people who played at that point are likely to understand, as well as dive a bit more deeply into the lore for things I know most people don't know.

The main thing I've realized since I truly started trying to write this again (after floundering at it for 2+ years), is that the lore of TBC absolutely sucks. There's a reason why everyone who writes Warcraft Fanfiction either goes with WC3, WoW60, or WoW80+ as their starting points. There's literally almost no one who's attempted to set any sort of fan fiction in Outland and gotten anywhere with it (at least that i've read) and had genuine lore going on beyond sticking with "attack this guy because they gots phat lootz". I think I've got most of what I'm going after now, but we'll see if i succeed… all i can say is thank god for the Demon Hunter/Illidari retcon we got with Legion Expansion.

Kat's Comments- Look. He's not dead. Neither am I. And I haven't kidnapped him or his muse. Maybe. Unless I tortured his password from him. MWAHAHA. Ahem. I think Burning Crusade is SO awkward. Some of the things make no canon sense. And end up retconned anyway. Sooo. That leaves us with what? Well. a mess. So we're doing our best with it. But we can't just go to black temple and ignore the rest. Soo. I feel like i helped less with this iteration. But we hope you enjoy it anyway!

-o0o0o-

A few alternative summaries by-lines for this story that were discussed at one point or another between me and Kat:

Possible Summary Caption 3: Harry, not content with merely a small harem, travels to the shattered realm of Outland in his pursuit of more tail… only this time, all the women actually have them.

Possible Summary Caption 5: What does a fifteen-foot tall demonic women with six arms do when lonely? Find out when she meets Harry Potter.

Possible Summary Caption 6: "An unruly animagus form was just a setback!" Watch as Harry confronts Orcs, Demons, Blood Elves, Betrayers, and the Deceiver himself, and possibly even more than one Kael'thas!