Harry Potter / Warcraft Crossover. A Weapon. A Hero. And now… a loose end. Harry Potter resolves to destroy the enemies who betrayed him on his terms, only to find all his plans torn asunder when he's summoned to a new world plagued with the same enemies of his own.
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
I highly doubt that the original inspiration for what I kicked off here will be continued. As it is, I liked the concepts it was based upon, plus I've really wanted to read a straight-up HP / Warcraft crossover for a while, but it looks like that day might never come. So I decided to write one myself. Plus I really wanted to see Harry eventually get it on with some Night Elf chicks.
There was also a bit of inspiration in this found in "Old Truths, New Beginnings" by shadowcaster01, but more from the way I really wished more action / HP Magic would occur. I tried to do the opposite with my story.
I'm also being bad with this story. Normally I come up with an outline, and that document ultimately ends up being 20 to 30k words in bullet plot points with a definite start and end before I consider actually writing anything in a normal story format. Then a friend challenged me, "Have you ever just started writing to see what happens?" No planning. No Outline. Just run with the plot wherever it takes you and "Go".
We'll see how it goes.
Chapter First Published: 2013-01-16
Chapter Last Update: 2013-03-13
Chapter 1 – Tainted Revenge
Harry sat on the edge of his bed in the master bedroom of the Potter Estate, slowly swirling the glass of fire whiskey in his hand. The rest of the house was empty except for the main entrance hall. Everything his family owned had been shrunk and placed within magical trunks that were stored in a moleskin pouch on his hip. All of it, ready to move at a moments notice.
Despite the fact he sat in a bedroom, he looked ready to fight a war since he had donned his full battle armor. Enchanted armor and robes that cost more than most wizards earned in ten lifetimes. And he had created these himself from scratch over the course of a year. All the knowledge to create them had been found in this house. The Potters truly were a powerful family, and it was no wonder Dumbledore had set up such an elaborate plot to gain access to his ancestor's secrets and fortune.
Everything the man had ever spoken or done regarding Harry had proved to be a lie. The death of his parents, the incarceration of Sirius, the ineffectual fighting of a second war against Voldemort, and the proclamations of war crimes against Harry for ending the lives of so many "upstanding purebloods" to end the conflict. Dumbledore had secretly been behind it all, and thought himself one-step ahead of Harry at all times.
The start of Harry's disillusionment with Dumbledore began moments after waking up in the hospital after the Twi-Wizard tournament. The old fool assumed Harry was asleep, but Harry had always been able to wake early from potions meant to incapacitate him in the hospital. It was the only time the Headmaster had probably ever spoken his true mind in public outside the safety of his office, and he paid for his indiscretion in spades.
"Is it done, Severus?" he heard the old man ask from a few feet away.
"Yes, but it appears to be ineffectual. His blood must be willingly and freshly given. We determined Potter himself must be in proximity to the wardstone as well. There were also additional conditions of the offering: he must be alive, coherent, and uncoerced when he makes the offering."
"Blast," he heard Dumbledore respond with vehemence Harry had never heard before. Harry almost opened his eyes there, but managed to remain calm and unmoving. "The boy can never know of his family's estate. The knowledge and opportunities it contains could allow him to end this war on his own if he actually was properly trained. We can't allow that if we want to be the ones who gain from allowing this conflict to be drawn out."
"Well, at least that part won't ever be a concern," said Snape, and Harry actually could swear he heard humor in the distasteful man's voice. "The boy is far more concerned with playing chess and quidditch with his Neanderthal friend than he is actually improving himself. He's known the Dark Lord has been after him since the end of his first year when he saw him with his own eyes, and he still does nothing to actually improve his chances of survival. He chooses classes such as Divination and Magical Creatures instead of Runes and Arithmancy. His luck has held so far, I doubt it will hold much longer. We will be ready to step in if that is the case."
Harry remembered his anger at those words at the time, but looking back now, he could honestly credit that brief summarization of his life as entirely truthful. He truly had never applied himself. All he had done was go with the flow. The only true extracurricular studying he had ever done outside the standard Hogwarts curriculum was to support his own survival in the Tournament. And even then, it was Hermione who performed most of the legwork.
He resolved right then and there to change.
A final off-hand comment by Snape as he walked away though is what changed the course of history. "It's just good he's continually bought your excuses not to enter Gringotts and to let the Weasley woman have possession of his trust vault key. He'll never know he's about to miss the opportunity to claim his inheritance and the Order will be well funded with money from his own vault."
As he heard the fading footsteps he felt rage overcome him. At that moment, for the first time in his life, he knew just how screwed he really was. It was a daunting realization, to have it finally dawn on him just how numerous his enemies were beyond just Voldemort.
The Death Eater children of Slytherin were his enemies. They had been trained since birth to hate Dumbledore and his "Golden Boy" Harry. It didn't matter that Harry had been left out to dry Dumbledore publicly on multiple occasions. Additionally, the "popular" crowd of Hogwarts were his enemies, since they relied upon gossip as fact. They had hated Harry for being a parselmouth, and hated him even more for stealing Cedric's thunder in the tournament. And the "light side" cronies of Albus Dumbledore were also apparently his enemies, as they sought to take what was rightfully his.
He also knew that the Ministry of Magic was now his enemy. He was not a completely naive child, and he was well aware of the consequences of the massive argument he had witnessed between Albus Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Because Harry was the original source of the now disputed fact of Voldemort's return, he knew the ministry would likely throw all its considerable political weight behind destroying Harry's reputation even further than Rita Skeeter had done this past year. He also knew this would be exacerbated by Lucius Malfoy, an influential Death Eater who had the Minister's ear. His political power was demonstrated two years previous after the man out-maneuvered Dumbledore during the Chamber of Secrets crisis.
A war had started and Harry was already fighting an uphill battle. Harry, for all intents and purposes, was in a war against everyone. And he was completely alone.
He couldn't count on Hermione to save his ass every time he found himself in trouble in the future. His only other potential ally he could think of was Neville Longbottom, and Neville was a far cry from someone who would be useful in battle. Neville was an abused under-confident child just like Harry was, and would have his own problems to overcome.
"Dobby," he whispered, hoping the Elf would would come.
"Yes Harry Potter sir," the diminutive green being said with exuberance.
"Dobby, do you wish to be my house Elf?"
His eyes widened. The incredibly loyal being looked like Christmas had just been declared to be every day of the year.
"Yes sir, Harry Potter Sir. Dobby would love to be his Elf."
"How do I do that?"
Dobby reached over and grabbed Harry's hand. Instantly he felt a bond between the two form. It felt pure and comforting. He knew Dobby was loyal to him and him alone, and that he could trust him with his life.
"Dobby, I need to get out of Hogwarts. I need you to quietly pack up all my belongings in my room, get out my invisibility cloak, and bring it all here."
A minute later, Dobby returned with all his chest, cloak, and an outfit to wear outside of the hospital. With a deep breath, Harry stretched and snuck out of the hospital. The hastily put together plan seemed to have succeeded so far.
His goal: Diagon Alley and the Gringotts Bank branch located there.
He needed to get from Hogwarts to there, and he needed to do it immediately. With his belongings packed, he shrunk his school chest and donned his father's invisibility cloak. Thirty minutes later, after a quick jaunt through a Hogwarts secret passageway, he found himself emerging from the basement of Honeydukes, the sweet shop in Hogsmeade village. A quick run to "the Three Broomsticks" tavern and some stolen floo powder found himself emerging from the fireplace in Diagon Alley's Leaky Cauldron in London. Elapsed time thus far, twenty minutes.
He was easily able to sneak through the alley undetected, and wisely took off his cloak as he ascended the steps to Gringotts. After all, it wouldn't be a very smart thing to sneak into a bank where guards would sooner kill you than look at you while wearing a device such as a invisibility cloak.
Those few fleeting moments on the steps of that bank would be the last time Harry James Potter was seen in public for nearly two and half years.
Harry continued to sit on the bed, lost in the memories of what followed the acceptance of his heritage. The grief, the rage, and finally, the happiness of having actual physical things that belonged to his parents in his hands other than an old invisibility cloak.
The goblins were extremely helpful with finding trainers for Harry. He withdrew from Hogwarts and applied himself towards learning everything and anything that could possibly assist him. He trained his body, his mind, and even his soul. The magical "leech" in his scar was removed, setting Harry's mind at ease and giving him the first true period of uninterrupted sleep in his lifetime. The power boost he received after the leach's removal was also incredibly substantial.
Open war broke out within a week of Harry's removal of the soul fragment embedded in the scar. He later learned through the interrogation of a high-ranked prisoner that Voldemort had been attempting to influence Harry through the mental link embedded in the scar. The Dark Lord's goal was for Harry to stupidly wander into the Ministry of magic and steal a prophecy orb for him located in the Department of Mysteries. With this no longer an option, Voldemort had to steal it himself, which through his own poorly devised plan, exposed him publicly far sooner than he wanted.
Before that summer was finished, the news was out. Voldemort was back and Harry Potter wasn't a liar. But even then, Harry did not make any public appearances. Decrees were passed by the Wizengamot, declaring him a traitor to Britain unless he returned to fight the Dark Lord, but he ignored each and every one. He went through a crash course of magical combat far more intensive than had been seen in centuries. It was during this period, he discovered the love of his life.
Runes could do everything Magic could do, but only better. They were static, predictable, and could be overpowered via Harry's insanely high magic levels to never break down even if subjected to simultaneous drains by hundreds of other normal wizards.
Eventually, Harry deemed his training adequate for the initial strike against his enemies. Magical Britain had taken no direct actions to combat the treasonous faction. They weren't even bothering to pursue them. The Death Eaters would never be defeated so long as the current toadies for Voldemort were entrenched in the legislature. As long as they held power, they could hold up the process for as long as needed to ensure the Dark Lord's ultimate victory.
So Harry had no choice. It was easy after all. All he did was compare each piece of legislation that helped Voldemort and which pieces that would aid muggleborns and compare who voted for what. It conveniently, gave him a very specific list of people who voted the same way each time.
He waited for a Wizengamot meeting where Dumbledore was out of the country on business. He stormed the Wizengamot and killed one-third of its members in the middle of a session. He left the room in ruins, each dead body with their left sleeve cut off, showing they were branded servants of the Dark Lord.
The action immediately alienated himself from both sides of the war, but it wasn't like he cared. He had already been declared a criminal and a traitor to Magical England, but at least now, he had done something to earn those charges. He was happy with the result since the government was free to make laws that actually targeted Death Eaters.
Afterwards, Voldemort was slowly pushed back, inch by inch, blow by blow, until he was on the ropes. They had him surrounded. An international force with some of the strongest Wizards in the world. Those present at that last battle truly believed the four years of war against the evil wizard were finally about to end.
And then the unthinkable happened. Voldemort unveiled that he had made a pact with a group of demons called the Burning Legion. And then he opened a Dark Portal and their invasion of Earth began. Voldemort died within seconds of the Portal opening, but no one had time to cheer. They were too busy trying to save their own lives.
Harry sighed, remembering the brutal dozen years that followed. Satyrs, imps, succubae, Doomguards, Felguards, Dread Lords, Shivarra, and Eradar. The endless number of foes he had slaughtered with his own hands had made Harry almost numb to death. However many he had slaughtered though found ten more behind to replace them. The number of humans upon Earth had fallen to under ten percent what it had been before the war.
'Before the war… that was now over.'
That concept was something Harry truly wished he could enjoy. But Harry would never be granted peace. He had been branded an international war criminal for the ruthless manner he had interrogated and ended the lives of his enemies. He had mind-raped so many Death Eaters prior to the war with the Burning Legion that it wasn't even something he could consider wrong anymore. He had seen their crimes. The rapes, the murders. He knew they would be back out on the street within weeks because of how the criminal justice system worked in England. He had committed unthinkable crimes for the good of everyone, because no one else had the stomach for it. The remaining magical humans alive on Earth owed their very lives to his methods, but they would never admit it.
Instead, a large group of 'light-side' fanatics currently stood outside the boundaries of his ancestral home. They had been banging on the wards in an attempt to bring them down for the past four days to arrest him. In truth, they didn't have a prayer of entering his wards. Nothing short of a muggle nuclear weapon could penetrate the ancient wards on the manor that Harry himself had reinforced. And even then, Harry could only count the Nuclear Weapon as a possibility because his attempts at an anti-radiation ward had never been tested.
No, any progress they had made towards bringing down the wards was deliberately allowed by Harry. He wanted this over.
He was tired of running. The Demon War had ended almost three years prior. He was tired of hiding on an estate that no one could enter but him. He was ready to start his life over. Voldemort was defeated. The Demon hordes of the Burning Legion had been driven back and eradicated. The portals had been shut down.
Now all that was left was for Harry himself to disappear. He needed to fake his death, or at least leave enough doubt that it wasn't worth the while of those in charge to continue to pursue him. If he could take out a number of his powerful enemies in the process, all the better.
And the people outside the ward line of his estate would certainly be counted amongst his enemies.
Most prominent of them all was Albus Dumbledore. The geriatric had lived through both the Demon and Second Voldemort war without lifting his wand once. That alone condemned him in Harry's mind. How many lives could have been saved if Albus Dumbledore had got off his sanctimonious arse and actually contributed. Harry hated hypothetical questions, but one like that always begged to be asked by his subconscious.
Harry's main plan to disappear was to allow Dumbledore and his minions access to his estate and then trap them here. He would then raise wards to prevent their escape and blow the place sky high, destroying them in one swoop and leaving their bodies in a completely unidentifiable state. The action would have the bonus of leaving it forever open as to whether he survived the incursion or not. The house was empty except for the main entrance hall to give the impression Harry still intended to live here. All side-halls from the entrance hall were sealed anyways to prevent people from snooping in the minute or two they had the chance.
If one were to wander the rest of the house behind those locked doors, they would be shocked to see the rest of the house was loaded to bear with runic bombs. Over five hundred bombs were all daisy-chained together into a massive array which would likely create a crater half a mile wide once set off. Harry would escape via shadow walking to a safe house in the American southwest. He planned to live there for at least half a decade in seclusion, then set out to another location which he would buy under an assumed identity already established by Gringotts.
There wasn't a ward in existence that could prevent his shadow-walking. Plus, it's not like Dumbledore would even know to prevent it anyways. No one alive knew he could shadow walk. Harry had killed everyone who had ever witnessed its use.
Harry absent-mindedly looked down at his glass, and realized he had sipped the final bit of alcohol he had nursed for the last thirty minutes.
'Guess this is it,' he thought sadly, as he looked around at the bedroom that had once belonged to his parents. He briefly thought of the few moments of happiness he had in this room. Laughing with Tonks. Chasing Susan around from room to room when she cursed his shower to run cold.
Memories of the two women he loved more than life itself… who had been killed by traitors outside his house right now.
He had found out his mother and father had lived here for the first ten months of their marriage, and had only abandoned it for a secluded cottage that Albus Dumbledore owned after Harry's birth. Dumbledore had told his parents of Harry's potential to kill Voldemort the day after he was born, and they immediately went into hiding, never knowing Dumbledore himself had Snape leak their identity to the Dark Lord.
'Just another crime that old man has never had to answer for until now,' thought Harry with quiet rage as he stood up.
He took one more look around the room and took a deep breath, before he walked out into the hallway. It was a dark, dreary walk through the empty halls of the house. Hallways once lined with portraits of his ancestors were bare, since all the portraits were now stored in his hidden trunks. Even the magical light fixtures had been removed by Harry. He would leave nothing behind that could possibly be of sentimental value.
Eventually, he found himself in the entrance hall, and walked down the grand marble staircase. He sorely wished he could have had the chance to have made a family in this house. It was a warm, loving environment here, completely opposite to the one time he had seen the interior of the Malfoy estate, with its dreary and forbidding stone walls and old-world dungeon-like fires everywhere.
Even companionship had been denied to him. The two times he had dated a woman, they had both been assassinated. One by Voldemort, the other time by Dumbledore. The bodies of Susan Bones and Nymphadora Tonks had once been buried here at a secluded part of his estate. He had since moved their graves to a peaceful garden at his new safe house. He wouldn't dare allow their eternal rest to be disturbed by the explosion he was about to create.
He walked to the center of the hall and stopped. This was it, the vast trap arrays were skillfully hidden, and the method to ignite the bombs were under the pressure switch floor panel he had just stepped upon. All he needed to do was bait his enemies into the hall.
After one last look around the room, he concentrated on the wards, and quickly collapsed the one barrier that protected the path from the main gate that lead to the front door. With the manner he used to remove it, the arresting Aurors would have no means to tell that Harry deliberately lowered the barrier instead of it having failed on its own. He had, after all, slowly lowered this barrier bit by bit over the past few days to make it seem like they were making progress.
The rest of the wards were active, and he could feel the presence of the intruders as they jogged up the path. He inwardly seethed at what he felt. They were all useless. All of them were nothing to him. Barely any of them had a magical core bigger than a Hogwarts fifth year. It was obvious Dumbledore had scraped the bottom of the barrel for this group.
And speaking of Dumbledore, his presence was the hardest to miss. He was in the lead group, obviously trying to give the impression that he was the fabled Light Lord he always made himself out to be by leading the charge. Harry couldn't help but chuckle, since this was the first time Dumbledore had been on the front-line of a wizard war or engagement since the late 1970's.
The front door to the house smashed open, and wizards began to pour into the room. None of them fired, none of them did anything except to circle the room. Harry knew Dumbledore wouldn't be able to resist giving some sort of speech, so he allowed himself to be encircled. It wasn't like Harry had anything to fear, since he currently stood in a magical dead zone that extended five feet in every direction from him. If a spell was fired at him, it would dissipate before it even got close to him. Even the killing curse couldn't pass through the magical void.
While the minions scurried forth into the room, Albus Dumbledore was the last, despite being one of the first there. He obviously didn't want to engage in a firefight that might cost him his life as he entered, so he allowed his hand-picked troops to enter first.
He walked in with a twinkling gleam to his eye, which belied the pitifully fake look of disappointment he now had aimed at Harry. "Harry, my boy. I'm afraid the chase ends here. Your parents would be ashamed at what you've done."
Harry knew this was just Dumbledore baiting him, so he didn't bother responding. He felt the wards once more through the one sliver of magic he had allowed through the dead zone, and found that everyone in the attacking group had entered the room. It was time to end this.
Harry gave a quick mental command, and activated the primary trap array under his foot. Instantly, every person in the room found themselves unable to move. Dumbledore's eyes widened in an act of surprise, which very quickly transitioned to fear.
"Did you actually think I was going to let you just waltz in here, Albus?" Harry asked conversationally. He was honestly amused and even disappointed how easy this was. There wasn't any challenge at all.
"I know you can't speak Dumbledore because of my trap, so I won't bother with some long-winded dialogue." He then spoke aloud, looking at everyone in the room who had their eyes glued to Harry, "Just know that everyone here in this hall, and every one of your backup troops outside…"
"…are all about to die."
Harry stepped off of the panel in the floor, and everyone heard an audible click, which began the countdown. Harry made a sigh of relief knowing that everything was about to go off without a hitch. "You have roughly thirty seconds to make your peace with your god, old man."
And with that final comment, Harry shadow walked out of his family estate.
Thirty seconds later, a circular half-mile area of Wales suddenly erupted in a blinding flash of light. Over five-hundred Witches and Wizards were vaporized instantly, including Albus Dumbledore, the famed self-proclaimed Leader of the Light.
And in America, in a secluded cabin stocked with provisions and under heavy wards, a silent beacon beeped the acknowledgment that the bomb had indeed gone off.
Yet the wizard that should have been there never arrived. In fact, the Wizard named Harry Potter was never seen on Earth again.