Author Note: I don't own Harry Potter or Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, and am not making any money from this, except when I loot the dead bodies.
Oh, and did I mention that this was my 2010 National Novel Writing Month's output? And that this year I'm writing a sequel to it? And that I'll post chapters as my current word count exceeds the size of the posted word count? So wish me a good muse, for the more I write the quicker this gets posted!

Chapter 2
The Quest of Mycroft

Harry dodged as a throwing axe almost gave him a shave. He leaped forward and stabbed the gnoll who threw it. He twisted, avoiding a slash from another one. The battle was chaotic, but Harry felt that the tide had turned. The group of Dwarves from Kalin's Mine were overrunning the hoard of monsters from the east.

Harry jumped back as a rusty, spiked mace tried to make acquaintance with his guts. Once his feet were set, he could use his own sword to strike back at the hyena headed creature.

The Dwarves, well, actually Harry leading the Dwarves, had been tracking the raiding party for a week. It was one of three humanoid raiding parties sent by the Saxon king. Aratin was leading another with a group of Elves from the Laughing Valley. (Harry thought it was a stupid name, but that's what it translated from the Elvish.) And Lord James, son of James, the Paladin to whom Aratin pledged allegiance, was hunting the third group.

This was Harry's first time "in charge" of a war party. True, Scorfen the Dwarf was in charge of the Dwarven fighters, but Harry was the Ranger doing the tracking, thus, leading them.

Cutting an artery in the gnoll's leg brought it down. It would bleed out in a minute or two. Harry kicked the spear it had been using away and looked for other enemies. All were busy being slaughtered by the Dwarves, so Harry dispatched his last opponent, wiped his sword on the gnoll's clothes, and started scouting the area.

That night, after hunting down two gnolls that had slipped away, Harry collapsed onto his bedroll. It had been an exhausting day for the twelve year old but he smiled, satisfied with his actions. He had finally had his "own" adventure. Now he could tell stories around the campfire, too.

It hadn't been easy to reach his level of skill. Most Adventurers didn't start training until they were at least twelve. Aratin had spent many, many hours with him in the wilderness, teaching, demonstrating, just living. He had learned the use of the sword from both his foster father and Lars, the retired fighter who lived at Blue Mountain. He had even had a few lessons with Paladin James, Lord of Shrewsbury. Several trips to the Dwarves had included classes in axe fighting well as how to gauge the quality of a weapon. In the Elven village, the graceful immortals had taught him to care for horses, birds, and hounds, and how to train them and keep them well. It was only later that Harry realized that in all these journeys he was also learning his way around the area. What he didn't realize he was gaining was contacts and familiarity with the peoples of the area.

His knowledge of the geography, along with his tracking and fighting skills, were vital to the success of his current Adventure.

As he slept, he had a strange dream. He was back in the cupboard. He was sad and held his blanket tight. It was comforting and he relaxed. The next day he wondered at his dream, for it was the first time in years he had thought of his old life. He shook his head and ignored it. That life was gone. He was Ranger Harry now. He didn't live in a house any more. And he didn't live with those people.

The Dwarves (except for the unlucky ones who had guard duty during the night) lay sprawled all over the campsite. They had partied late into the night. The human boy had missed the beginning of the celebration as he hunted down the two escaped gnolls, and later missed the end, as he had gone to bed exhausted. Now it was the Dwarves turn to be exhausted. He briefly thought of getting revenge for the noise they had made last night, but decided against it. They would wake up soon, and he would start to lead them back to Kalin's Mine; their families revenged against the attackers. Then he could go home, too.

ADND

Dumbledore looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk in the Ministry building. Sometimes he wondered about having too many jobs, but if not him, then who? Who else had such a clear view of the Greater Good? Who else could lead the Wizarding World with calm stability while the Muggle world swirled and spun in chaos and confusion?

But he needed the boy of prophecy. The door opened and the Unspeakable entered.

"Well?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"We have made initial contact. He lives and we have touched his dreams."

"Can you retrieve him?"

"No."

"NO? No 'not yet'? or no 'not ever'?" the Supreme Mugwump demanded.

"Not yet. You think it's easy finding someone in a completely different universe? If I recall, you were late to an important meeting of the International Confederation because you misplaced your glasses."

"Yes, well, I couldn't put on my glasses to find them. So you found the boy and you will some day be able to retrieve him. When? What do you need to get it done?"

"Now that we've made contact, we need to change it from a mental to a physical connection. We need to open a gate."

"Oh." Dumbledore knew that opening a gate was difficult to do on the Earth. To do it between two universes would be very difficult. "Keep me informed of your progress. The boy has been missing for over three years. We have no idea what kind of conditions he's living in!"

"We didn't know what conditions he was living in when he lived with the Muggles, did we?" Dumbledore had the good sense to look away ashamed. Not that he felt ashamed, just that he knew he should present that image.

The Unspeakable left. Dumbledore seethed. He needed the boy. At least Voldemort had the good graces to stay lost.

ADND ADND

Harry woke up Dendreg for his turn at watch. They lit a couple of refilled lanterns, extinguished the ones that had illuminated the party while Harry kept watch, and filled them so they would be ready later. The cavern they were in was quiet, except for the breathing of the sleeping party members.

"This is stupid," Harry whispered to his friend. "We haven't seen an orc in days. The trappers, jellies, and other things are just random inhabitants of the caves. I feel that Mycroft hasn't told us the real goal of this adventure."

The Druid looked at the sleeping wizard. "I can't disagree, my friend. His comments about meeting Lord James have been vague. I would bet he only dropped the Paladin's name in order to gain support for this endeavor. Why would someone lie about meeting the lord of the land? It's not as if he passed along orders for Aratin to support him, or anything. He didn't seem to use the name, other than to say James suggested he check with Aratin."

Harry thought for a few minutes. "No, he didn't order anything in James' name. He didn't need to. He hired us and the others, so we were always free to say no. But what do you get from a Paladin that you don't need to "use"? What have we assumed because he said he talked with Lord James?"

Dendroginous, Druid Initiate of the 3rd Circle, and Harry's friend since he arrived, shrugged his shoulders.

"You're right. We assumed he was Good because he came from the Paladin."

"Watch him."

It was two days later, three warrens of giant rats, two grey oozes, and four giant snakes (which Harry politely asked to leave them alone, and, like all snakes he had encountered, had shown themselves to be very accommodating to him. They also warned the group about several upcoming traps and another rat warren where the snakes liked to go for lunch sometimes.) when Harry and Dendreg talked again, alone, which was a rarity while working their way through uncharted tunnels. They were resting, and Harry's and Dendreg's watches butted up against each other again.

They discussed the recent losses the party had taken. Pete, the weaver's boy who was interested in becoming an Adventurer had been dissolved by an ooze after being weakened by repeated rat bites. Also Timothy of London, one of the adventurers who had come with the magic user, Mycroft, fell into a poison pit trap and died. Mycroft, (Harry was pretty sure he was an Enchanter from the number of spells he used each day), was upset by that event, and Harry heard him wishing it was one of the "yokels" who had encountered it. Tim had been introduced as a "gentleman adventurer." Dendreg and Harry looked at each other and whispered "Thief."

There was nothing overt, but the two teens felt more and more that the goal of the adventure was not "Good." When Harry brought the matter up with Lars, a fighter from Aratin's village who had come out of retirement for "one last adventure" he just shrugged.

"Good, Evil. As long as they pay. Let me tell you about the time..." Harry felt this was a singularly shortsighted view, while he listened to Lars' story. There may be some exaggeration, but Harry always picked up tricks from the old adventurer.

The journey grew harder as they made their way deeper into the caverns. Two more of the Fighters died. That left their original party of ten with only six. Canon Kenneth, the cleric that accompanied Mycroft, did his best, but you can't always cure someone in the midst of battle.

Dendreg pointed out to Harry that Kenneth didn't wear any symbols for his god, nor did he pray out loud to him/her/or it. "Probably one of the evil ones," they guessed.

After successfully battling a group of minor demons - similar to, but not exactly quasits - Harry encountered his first purple worm. It bore only a passing resemblance to a snake; it certainly didn't speak snake.

Lars the Bold, the only other party member from Aratin's village, was killed by the worm. After the battle, Harry and Dendeg toasted their fallen companion.

"He kept saying he should have stayed home," Harry said.

"Yes, but you know if he hadn't come he would have been miserable about turning down another opportunity to Adventure. You remember how long he went on about your last job. He really wasn't happy being an ex-Adventurer."

Harry grinned. "Actually, I think he wasn't happy unless he had something to complain about."

"I think you're right, Harry. To Lars!"

The rest of the party joined in, "To Lars!"

"Yes, yes," Mycroft said after the toast. "Ranger, can you get us back to its lair? We can see what it's got for treasure."

Harry nodded. They would have to have a real funeral party back in town.

"I'll see what I can do."

The lair of the purple worm was profitable. Amidst the bones and bodily wastes of the giant invertebrate was a very large collection of coins, most being gold. There was also an iron rod that Mycroft determined to be a Rod of Immobility. He auctioned it off, and Harry took it instead of monetary treasure.

The next day they reached their destination, according to Mycroft. The caves suddenly took on the attributes of a mine - smooth floors and walls, arched ceilings, stone columns holding up the ceiling in places, and torches in sconces. Not very many, but some.

"I don't like the look of this," Harry told Dendreg.

"I don't like the size of the corridors, or height of the ceiling. Whatever comes through here is probably big."

ADND ADND ADND

Pathfinder Harry, Initiate Dendroginous, Enchanter Mycroft, and Canon Kenneth were the only survivors of the battle. The Cleric used his last healing spell to restore Dendreg to full health.

Harry looked around the carnage of the Ogre King's throne room. The magic wielding king ogre, five of his guards, and the two fighters loyal to Mycroft were dead. Harry had quaffed two healing potions during the middle of the fight, and a third after the battle and was feeling almost normal. Dendreg had taken a number of hits, too. The mace to the ribs had been the worst, but his hardened leather shirt had absorbed some of the damage, and the cleric had finished the healing. Mycroft was mostly out of spells until after a sleep and study session. However, as he pointed out, they were in the middle of an Ogre lair and should probably loot it and get out quickly.

While the mage and cleric searched the room, Dendreg and Harry collected any useful items from the bodies. They had had a conversation once about the practice; technically, they were looting the dead, but they were also in the midst of many potential enemies, and anything could help.

The fighters had some good weapons, but Harry wasn't going to use either of their larger swords until he had them checked for curses and alignment. He had been raised on stories of evil objects corrupting Rangers and Paladins. The whip of the ogre king was probably magic, and he set it aside for Mycroft. Magic Users always got the first pick of objects usable by MUs. There was also an ogre sized gold ring with a black stone with flickering red flecks in it. All the gold and silver pieces went into a special bag. Dendreg added some coins to the bag, too, but found nothing else magical.

"I think there's a hidden door, here. Ranger, check it out. Drat that Thief for dying."

Harry quickly confirmed that there was hidden door, and found the trigger rock one had to press to release it. It was at ogre height, so was above where the Cleric and Mycroft were searching.

The door opened on the ogre king's lair. However, what the Ogre's valued and what humans valued were two different things. The room and furniture was decked out in skins of his enemies and their heads on the wall - things like that. The chest with the large padlock looked promising, though. Cursing the dead thief again, the MU was unable to pick the lock. The cleric failed, too. Then they looked at Harry. He stepped into the throne room and picked up one of the dead ogres' maces - a lump of metal attached to a wood and metal shod handle - obviously not Ogre-made. Harry grasped it in both hands and brought it down with as much force as he could on the lock. With a snap and clang, the lock sprang open. Harry dropped the mace into his sack and stepped back, fingering his sword while watching the entrance way in case something heard the noise.

Dendreg joined them. "Not much on the bodies. What did you find in here?" he asked, looking at a particularly large head sitting in the corner. Reptillian, with a spike on its nose, and large sharp teeth, it was made out of stone.

"They defeated a basilisk," Dendreg said.

"It is of no matter, it's not here!" Mycroft said. Harry looked in the chest. Considering how large it was, the amount stored in it was minor.

Mycroft and Kenneth were pushing coins and jewelry around in the chest. Harry reflected that they had a bigger haul from the purple worm.

"What are you looking for?"

"An iron flask. If these are the ogres that attack Drednick the Violent, then the flask should be here!" Kenneth growled.

"Search the room!" Mycroft demanded. Harry saw that Dendreg had a strange expression on his face. Obsessed. Harry raised an eyebrow, but the Druid shook his head.

"I'll stay by the door," Harry said quietly.

"Good. Watch out for attacks fore and aft."

Harry nodded and started searching the wall with the door. Dendreg was wrinkling his nose and looking through the animal skins that the king ogre used as a bed. Harry finished without finding anything and looked at the room. He looked at the chest and smiled.

The chest lay open and still filled. He started filling the group loot bag with the contents. They would divide it up at less dangerous time. Once empty, he pulled out his dagger and plunged it into the lid of the chest.

The chest, obviously not ogre work, was lined with velvet, including the inside of the lid. However, the lid was several inches deep, and the velvet was positioned to allow a space in it. He cut away the soft cloth exposing a wooden interior with two latches at the edges. By this time the rest of the party was around him.

"Let me, Ranger," the Magic User ordered. Harry moved back and watched as Mycroft put his thumbs on the latches and pushed in. The board loosened.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, pulling his hands away. Harry could see two little bits of blood on this thumbs where something had pricked him. He stared at his hands for a moment and said, "Healing potion! NOW!"

"We're out, old friend," Kenneth answered.

"Neutralize poison?" Both Cleric and Druid shook their heads. "Slow poison?" he asked, knowing he was grasping at straws. Kenneth again shook his head.

"Damn Thief," were Mycroft's last words.

Kenneth looked at Harry. "Can you open it without killing yourself?"

Harry looked at it, and shrugged. "No guarantees. There may be more deadly traps inside. A poison gas container could kill us all. But we could just take the whole chest and open it back in town."

"Or along the trail, once I've rested and prepared," Kenneth countered.

"Sure. But there's only the three of us now, so the name of the game is not to be seen. We want to get out of here without any battles; there's too few of us," Harry warned. The others nodded.

They quickly rifled Mycroft's body, collecting anything that might be valuable or useful. Dendreg removed a pendant from the Magic User's neck. He tossed it to the Ranger.

"Here Harry, it's the same color as your eyes."

Harry examined it. The jewel was as his friend described. It was in a small gold symbol of three triangles, slightly offset, making a nine pointed star. Harry absently put it in his pocket.

ADND ADND ADND ADND

Three days later they were camped in the woods. It had taken more than two days to get out of the caves with only one major battle against a clan of goblins that was looking for a new home. It was an unprofitable victory, but at least there were no major wounds on the human side.

Now they were in the wilderness north and west of Shrewsbury, Paladin James' town. Kenneth finished his dinner, a squirrel roasted over the fire - one of three that Harry had shot - and looked at Harry intently.

"I would very much like to attempt to open the secret compartment of the chest. I would like to head east and eventually reach the Roman road from Deva to Wroxeter."

"If we come to the Blue Mountain Cantref, it's a fairly safe walk to Shrewsburry, and you can pick up a road heading east from there," Harry offered.

"I would rather be on my way. This ill conceived adventure of Mycroft's has left me anxious to get away from it, no offense. So if we can check the chest, we can see if it contains the relic that Mycroft was looking for."

Harry used a dagger to free the latches, avoiding touching the chest as much as possible. He was able to pry the door open to reveal a rune covered, iron flask.

"What is it?" Harry asked, as he handed the object to the Cleric.

"It is the flask of Tuerny the Merciless. A powerful, magical relic for which Mycroft and I have been searching for years. He's dead, but I have succeeded!"

Harry looked at the flask quizzically. There were just too many magic items in the world to know them all. He glanced at Dendreg and paused. It looked like the Druid knew the item.

"So, the ogres stole this from Drednick the Violent, right?"

"Yes," the Cleric said, putting the flask into his pack.

"Where did Drednik get it from?" Something in Dendreg's tone made the cleric look up.

"I don't exactly know. Somewhere west. Why?"

Dendreg ignored the question but asked one of his own.

"What are you going to do with the iffrit in it?" He stood up, an angry look on his face.

Kenneth, too, stood up, pulled something from his pocket and began chanting. Harry leaped up, the dagger he had used against the chest still in his hand, and lunged at the Cleric. Kenneth twisted, but was stabbed in the arm. He finished his chant and Harry found himself paralyzed.

Dendreg, meanwhile, cast his own spell on his oak walking stick. It glowed green briefly and he rushed the cleric. He swung and missed as the Canon dodged.

Kenneth pulled his own mace from his belt and was hefting it as Dendreg hit him. The evil Cleric swung his mace, but Dendreg avoided being hit. His return swing missed, and the two clerical adventurers started circling each other. Moving suddently they both attacked at the same time, bludgeoning each other. Both staggered back, gasping. Harry could only watch, unable to move while under the Hold Person spell.

Dendreg got another heavy blow to Kenneth, who fell to one knee and shook his head. He tried mumbling a spell, but Dendroginous brought his Shillelagh enhanced club down on his head, killing him.

Dendreg looked at Harry and sat down heavily. He cast a Cure Light Wounds spell on himself and commented.

"Let's go on an Adventure, you said. It will be fun, you said. Just clean out some orcs and we'll be done, you said. That's the last time I listen to you!" He put a pot on the fire to make some tea.

Harry's paralysis wore off before the water boiled.

"What do you mean, I talked you into coming! I never said any of that." Then Dendreg looked up, the smile on his face mocking his words.

"You are so easy!" he laughed.

"Fine! You finish fixing the tea, I'll check the body, then I want to move on."

"It's almost night."

"Yeah, well, Kenneth here might draw some unwanted visitors tonight, and I'd rather avoid it."

"Oh, very well."

Harry looked up from looting the body. "You knew about the flask?"

"It had come into possession of the Great Druid at some point in the past. It holds an iffrit, and is rather dangerous to try to use; lose control of the creature and you'll lose your life. But anyway, Drednick hires an orc army to attack the Great Druid and steal the flask. He succeeds. It's only fair that I bring the current Great one the flask for safekeeping again."

"What if he doesn't want it?"

"We'll probably be sent on a quest to destroy it."

Harry finished with the cleric. He had found some disturbing symbols on the body. Definitely, some sort of devil worshipper: Lawful Evil.

He took a mug of tea from his friend as he sat down and asked, "What do you mean, 'We'?"

ADND ADND ADND ADND ADND

They were two days from the Blue Mountain Cantref, relaxing in the light of a fire in the cool Autumn air when it happened. Harry and Dendreg both thought they had accumulated enough treasure to pay for the training to the next levels of their respective vocations. They knew from experience that this would mean weeks of intense training and very little time for socializing. So, as much as they wanted to get back, they were enjoying their time together.

But then the fire turned green and a face appeared in the middle of it. Made out of fire, it was rather hard to see details, but Harry was sure that it was of an old man with a beard.

"Harry! Harry Potter?" the fiery image called.

"Who calls me?" he answered.

"Stick your head in the fireplace so I can see you."

Harry looked at Dendreg who shook his head.

"Forget that! What are you? Some sort of fire elemental trying to get an easy meal?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore, friend of your parents. I'm trying to bring you home."

"That's very kind of you, but it's only two day's hike and I'm rather looking forward to it. The leaves are changing and the weather's beautiful."

"It's going to rain the day after tomorrow," Dendreg said as an aside, having cast a weather prediction spell when they stopped.

"Shut up," Harry whispered.

"No," the face said. "I'm from the world where you were born. I've made this connection to bring you home to your friends and family."

Harry opened his canteen and threw water on the fire. The face looked surprised for a moment before it faded and the fire returned to its normal color.

"No way in the nine hells am I going back to my aunt and uncle's place," he told Dendreg. "I'm done with them. Let's get some sleep. If we get up early, and hike late tomorrow, we can reach Blue Mountain before midnight, but we'll avoid having to hike in the rain."

"I thought you wanted to enjoy the autumn days."

"Shut up."