Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Warcraft III or frozen throne. I just wish I did.
Harry Potter/ Warcraft III crossover
BlackRock and Roll
By: Mage-Alia
Chapter 2: Arthas
Summary: Harry has been in danger for most of his life, but the stakes are raised indefinitely when he is swept through space and time to Lorderon near the beginning of the invasion of the burning legion and the rise of the Scourge. Now, he's on his own with no allies or friends, just himself and an iron will to survive his new hell.
AU, No Pairings.
Arthas was a prince.
The Crown Prince of Lorderon…
So it wasn't every day that he was attacked by villagers.
The boy they'd found in the dragon's cave was still knocked out when they returned to the encampment where Uther the Lightbringer, a fellow Paladin, was waiting along side the Dragon hunters that had requested his help in bringing down the dragon in the first place. The older Paladin, with silvery blue armor and streaks of gray in his hair looked concerned as he took in the sight he made with the boy in his arms.
"You really mean to say this boy was living with the beasts?" Uther questioned, not taking his eyes off the unconscious child. He was a mess and it had clearly been weeks since his last bath. The tracks down his face where tears had fallen where the only clean area on him. He was thin, painfully so and there was an odd lightning shaped scar on his forehead. The dragons had probably done that, and starved him in his time as a prisoner.
"Was there ever reports of children going missing from the nearby villages?" Arthas enquired. Uther shook his head.
"Many, but their bodies where all accounted for when we attacked the Blackrock Orc encampment, what was stranger though was the amount of bodies in the sacrificial pit. There where more there than what had been missing, and the way they where dressed, I don't think they where people of Lorderon, they might have come with slavers from further south." He fell silent and followed Arthas as he walked toward one of the farms that supplied food and shelter for the soldiers. He handed the boy to the women who lived there. They would clean him up, and if they where lucky, they would be able to identify him. Arthas returned to his men by the town hall and ordered them to their guard posts before dismissing the rest. They where going to break down camp and move on tomorrow morning so the men would need all the rest they could get, but even as he joined Uther on his patrol of the camp he couldn't take his mind off the boy who had attacked him, his eyes glowing the same fiery green as those of Searinox.
It was quiet when Harry came too.
There was no gentle snoring of the fledglings, no shuffles as a dragon scratched itself, no rattle as Searinox rolled over on his bed of bones.
Nothing.
There was an unfamiliar bed beneath him and the rough wooden walls would never have been found in the cave. Holding back angry tears as the memories of those last chaotic minutes in the cave Harry sat up in the bed and looked around. He was in a small room with just a door, a few shelves and the rough bed that he was lying in. His dagger was set aside on the shelf on the opposite wall beside a set of clothes that had been neatly folded, ready and waiting. His head still ached from the blow that had laid him out and the blood rushed to his head as he moved to get to his feet, forcing him into sitting back down.
Waiting until the wave of nausea had passed Harry finally stumbled across to the clothes, ignoring his state of undress until he was pulling on the simple un-dyed shirt and pants. He ignored the boots that had been placed on the floor below and as he tied the shirt laces, crossed to the window and looked out.
There was a cluster of buildings visible from the portal and Harry noticed one building off to one side of the small village that was still bustling with movement. He worked up the latch on the window and it opened out on hinges before he nimbly rolled over the frame, landing on his feet with cat like grace only to go to his knees as the landing sent a jolt of pain to his head. As he walked toward the trees a breeze ruffled his hair and he realized that someone had cleaned him up. Ignoring the implications he continued to move and eventually stopped to lean against a tree where the building was visible. What he saw there nearly made his blood boil, his grief from earlier turning into anger. The dwarves had made a chain and where passing along the hides of the dragons from the nearby caves. When he saw the huge carcass of Searinox being dragged through the dirt behind the hide and his heart it was all he could do not to just scream again.
Then the Paladin wondered into view, looking thoughtfully at the body. Harry bit his lip until it bled to keep himself from submitting to the part of his mind that whispered at him to rip him apart.
Turing away from the scene he crept around the back of the building he now recognized as a blacksmith and watched from the shadows outside the range of the forge until they began to work on cleaning Searinox's hide. The heart was placed on a small stand by the forge and a dwarf pottered around it taking crystal panels from the fire and molding them around the heart to protect it. Turning it into a molten orb of glass and flesh. The green shade of magic that pulsed around it called to him and somehow he knew a piece of Searinox was still there.
It was Ironic how he cared more for a dead dragon than the lives of a human.
Eventually the workers left the forge as the night drew on, the last remains of sunset passing well on into the west until only the moon and the stars where left, filtering through the grime covered windows of the forge. In the near pitch darkness of the room, Harry left his hiding place and crept toward the long roughly hewn table that held Searinox's hide. Silently he raised a hand and ran it down the muzzle, peering at the dark green eyes that had long since lost their fire, but even as his fingers came into contact with the scales something changed. Rapidly the skin, that had once covered the entire table, shrank. Jerking his hand back he watched as the Eyes flashed for a moment and in that second he could feel a tug, almost like he had been touching his wand. After a moment he reached forward and touched it again but this time it didn't flash, instead, he had the urge to put it on.
Moving solely on instinct he picked up the heavy skull and heaved it over his back, making it come to rest over his head before reaching behind him for the forelegs. The magic around him shifted and they came around like sleeves an opening under the claws for his hands so he could still use them. He noticed the back legs had been sown down and the tail acted like the long train of a robe. Somewhere in the back of his mind a whispering started, though it was like trying to listen to the whispered conversation from another room. The words where indistinct and Harry couldn't for the life of him, work them out but then a harsher whisper that carried the same tone as Searinox cut through the others and they all fell into silence.
Not knowing if he had imagined it he crossed the floor, passing the now empty table to where the heart had been transformed into a pulsing orb. Like the hide Harry reached out to touch it, the claws moving with his fingers to lightly scrape the crystal casing. The deep green swirls within shifted under his touch and without really thinking he lifted it from its stand. A shrill noise exploded through the air around him and Harry cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. He had seen the dwarf casting some kind of spell on it. He had been there long enough to realize that Dragon hearts, especially from one so powerful as Searinox, would probably be worth more than its weight in gold.
Holding the orb close to his chest he decided that the time for hiding was over. Moving with more grace than he knew he had he ran for the back door, only to have it fly open before he could reach it. Framed there, standing in the doorway, was an old man, with graying hair, not unlike professor Lupin's. He was in a nightshirt, looking as though he had just rolled out of bed and holding an enormous hammer in one hand.
So there where two paladins.
The man's eyes widened at the sight of him, wrapped in the hide.
"What are you doing boy?" Harry, who had skidded to a stop, flinched at the name. Searinox had always just called him whelp, everyone who'd ever hurt him called him boy. Even so, the dark haired boy didn't answer, he just held up a free hand and magic shot through the charged scales, nearly bursting from the tips of the claws before he'd even yelled out the spell.
"Expeliarmus!" The hammer was thrown out of the paladin's hands as he was hurled out of the doorway and into one of the trees that lined the clearing. Confused shouts echoed and there was a bang from the front of the blacksmith's workshop. Harry half turned to see the hulking frame of the first Paladin blocking the doorway. He too was stunned to see him.
"What…?" Harry repeated his spell and the aristocratic blonde was thrown into the wall beside the door he had just entered. Harry didn't wait for anymore to come, he took off out the back door and as he passed, the gray haired man stared back at him wide eyed.
"What are you?" He gasped out Harry began to scowl, for a split second he felt the haze of nothing that had been covering his senses lift, but he threw himself back into the void so he wouldn't have to feel. Without a word he turned away from him and plunged into the woods beyond. Having not recovered from the surprise Uther just sat there. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened or what the boy was, but in that split second he had looked into the green eyes and seen a tortured soul. One that had seen the worst of the world laid bare before him and too little of the good.
The old knight felt his heart going out to him as the young prince and a few others found him. Arthas handed him his hammer after he'd found his way to his feet, commenting that he must be getting old to let the boy get away, Uther was laughing at him a moment later when the captain of the squad Arthas had under his command pointed out that the boy had gotten the best of him too. Still, as they made their way toward the frantic Dwarves to report the theft, Uther's eyes strayed to the forest borders and he sent up a silent prayer to whatever god was listening to keep an eye on the teen.
Someone so young should never have those eyes.
Harry could feel that something was wrong.
The earth was tainted black and the sky was shadowed by great storm clouds that refused to shift however harshly the icy wind blew. He had been wondering through the wilderness for a few days before he emerged into civilization once more. A small farming village sat on the outer edges of a large town that stood on the opposite side of the river. The people eyed him warily as he slinked into their midst and looked around. He guessed that the hide he wore seemed more than a little intimidating. Still debating whether or not to ask for shelter for the night he found himself staring at a bridge. It was broken and burnt, with what little that remained damaged beyond repair. Harry tipped his head to one side in confusion before asking out of the blue.
"What happened?" The villager that had been trying to quietly hide in the bushes to watch him jumped violently at being addressed so directly.
"W…Wh…I…It b…burnt down." He stuttered out quickly. Harry didn't take his eyes off the bridge.
"Why was it burnt?" He asked and the other teen, who had been backing away, stopped.
"It…it was to s...stop the plague, P…Prince Arthas went across the river yesterday by the old f…ford and didn't…c…come back." Harry ignored him as he abruptly turned and ran back toward the village and Harry decided to rest anyway. Sitting down on the dirt path he crossed his legs and began to think about what he knew of this world. Something he really hadn't had the chance to do since he'd run with the black Dragon's hide and heart.
Searinox had told him that these lands where called Lorderon. A human province with lots of tasty farmers and the occasional Elf that came from the north, a place called Quel'thalas, though, the elves didn't taste half as good as the farmers apparently, far to stringy. He wasn't quite sure where he was other than that, but he did know that the capital was further to the north. Dragon's, however old, didn't always find an interest in knowing all the countries.
The shuffle of scared people came from behind and he looked over his shoulder. The now empty eye sockets where aligned so he could see them standing a few feet away, looking drawn and frightened with a few even carrying makeshift weapons. They'd seen hard times recently, that much was obvious. When they didn't speak up Harry decided to take the initiative and did it for them.
"Where's the Ford?" A few of them jumped before peering closely at the few visible parts of his face. They where surprised, mostly by how young he seemed. There was more silence before one man stepped forward and coughed awkwardly.
"Uh… milord…?" Nervous and intimidated by his strange cloak the man twisted his hands before him. "Are you a mage?" He jumped back as Harry rose slowly to his feet and nodded, not quite sure if he qualified as a 'Mage' or not. It might just be the word for 'Wizard' around here. The man looked a little more relaxed at that. They probably recognized a mage as someone they could trust.
Such simple-minded fools.
"…We'll show you where the old ford is." He said abruptly, obviously not wanting trouble. The peasant bowed awkwardly before beckoning him along the riverbank to the right of the bridge. "This way." Harry followed them, only a pace behind the leader.
"This plague… what do you know of it?" He asked slowly, and in a low voice. He honestly didn't want to frighten them, they where doing a good enough job of scaring themselves. The man looked alarmed at first but obviously forced himself to relax.
"We don't know much, milord. We're only simple folk, but there are these… monsters." Harry couldn't help his reaction as his head whipped around and he eyed the man.
"Monsters?" He questioned sharply and the villager flinched.
"Yes, Lord, they appear in the villages that the plague has taken, 'is why we burned the bridge." Harry stared at him for a moment longer before they reached the river. Looking out he could see the shallow waters and the raised path that wound through them.
"This is it milord." The villager bowed awkwardly and Harry nodded his thanks before fleeing. He ran through the water, the black leathery tail preventing the sound of footsteps splashing as he charged through the ruins of an old bandit camp. It was only another minute or so before he was in the remains of a village that looked as though it had half burned to the ground, just like the bridge. Footsteps slowed and stopped as he observed the scene with no little amount of queasiness bringing up a hand in an attempt to block out the stench of decaying flesh, they'd all been dead for a very long time.
"Did the plague do this?" He moved closer and examined on corpse that was lying in the street. It was bloated and dead, but in spite of the spreading bugs and other methods of decay he could see long gashes where the skin had been cut open by a blade… most likely a sword. Even stranger, was the odd lack of blood. It was lumpy and congealed around the inside of the wound, but none had leaked from the body.
Someone had cut them up after they'd died and left them there.
Nose crumpling in disgust under his hands Harry moved on. He didn't need to be a tracker to notice the trail of the killers as they moved along. Gore was spread around on the path, and had been flattened under heavy boots that moved in columns suggesting soldiers as the culprits. The green-eyed boy thought back and remembered what the villager had said while he was leading him to the ford. Someone, known as Arthas had been through here far more recently and it brought Harry to wonder if he had been responsible for the mess.
He followed the trail through two more smaller settlements before he encountered a larger town. It was completely deserted and the dark haired wizard had to resist the urge to gag as something more than just the smell pressed down on him. Pulling the hide closer, as if it could block out the sickly, evil feeling he'd so far only felt in the presence of Voldemort and those Orcs. Trying to move on as quickly as possible he didn't notice the small form that darted for him until it was attached to his legs, holding him in an iron grip and making small whimpering sounds. Gasping in shock Harry looked down and found himself looking into a pair of golden glowing eyes.
"H…hel...help…me…!" It groaned, as if it had forgotten how to speak and only just remembered again. The creature was only about the size of a small child and its face was sickly and devoid of any flesh. Tufts of brown hair stuck stubbornly to the scalp, barely hanging on with the remains of dried blood and gore. Clothes hung off its wasted form and in some places the joints where exposed where any skin or muscle had been torn away, but what caught Harry's attention the most, was a small thread bare teddy bear hanging from the crook of the creature's arm. He stared at it, uncomprehending until it dawned on him what this thing must be. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the stench of death he carefully knelt down to face it.
"Did you catch the plague?" He asked slowly. The boy, as Harry now recognized him as, nodded franticly, his jaw bouncing open and closed, as his face muscles seemed so close to giving way. The misplaced wizard felt his face falling even as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Was this the effect of the mystery plague? It wasted people away until they look like monsters or did they really become one?
"Listen, where are the others?" Harry asked and the little boy shook his head.
"They're… all… gone!" He piped up, sounding better than before but still rather unsure of his words. "They…g…g…got sick, they… turned…" He began slowly. "I…into… monst..ers…" Harry felt a sudden thrill of dread and threw himself out of the way just in time as the boy gave out a guttural howl and lunged for him. Dropping the teddy bear he skittered on bony limbs and turned back for him. Harry got to his feet and ran, weaving through the wreckage of the village and jumping over obstacles, but the now zombified boy was fast and came up behind him not having needed to breathe. Without really thinking about what he was doing Harry let instinct take over as adrenaline flooded his system and he stopped abruptly, spinning around to meet the undead child with his claws instead.
He leapt at him and Harry snapped his hand up, the magic running down his arms like before and nearly bursting from the claw before he could focus it into a banishing spell. It caught the zombie in mid air and sent him flying back into a wall where most of its bones shattered, but it was still alive and Harry followed up his first spell with a hastily cast 'Incendio.' It went down screaming and eventually the oddly green flames died down, having eaten all the magic that kept the poor child alive.
Harry backed away a few paces and felt his legs go out from under him, sending him to the ashen ground. Now he understood what it was he had seen on his way here. The plague was something magical. It killed people and then brought them back to life as monsters that attacked anyone who hadn't been infected previously. Seeking out the trail of the soldiers he followed it visually to a large ruined building that hadn't been burned like the rest. Getting shakily to his feet Harry moved toward it, noting the enormous bloated bodies of what must have been villagers at some point, lying on the ground nearby.
"This is sick." He muttered to himself as he kicked a board out of the way and a few leftover husks of grain spilled out into the ground. Recognizing them from a picture he'd seen in primary school when he'd learned about the food groups, he knew something was wrong with it. "The plague was spread with the grain?" He nudged the board back and looked around before his gaze settled on the tracks.
"Maybe they'll help."
With that in mind Harry began the trek after the soldiers, simply ignoring the devastation that surrounded him.
He was too tired to care anymore.
A/N: Okkie dokie! That's it for the second chapter!
Heh, Harry's worn out and he's practically running on empty where sanity is concerned. He kind of seems a little out of character doesn't he, well, you'd be a little off if you had to put up with all the shock he did and Just so you know, he doesn't connect, 'Prince Arthas' with the blonde Paladin who killed Searinox yet.
Anyway…
Parts of this chapter may need a little fixing and I'll apologize for those, but I've been working hard on one of my side projects. I've actually started writing a book, for real, and I've been having idea after idea. My walls have been plastered with doodles of the characters and my laptop is taking a beating from all the typing I'm doing. So bare with me for now will you?
Don't forget to review!
Cya
