AN: Harry Potter/Gothic crossover (Gothic is a dark fantasy RPG from 2001, created by Piranha Bytes).

Thunder Sky

Kill, or be killed – it's the only way to survive in a world where clawed and fanged death waits around every corner.

PROLOGUE: Frenzy

Day 392

A hand tapped his shoulder.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

Harry kept his eyes glued to the stony path below. It wouldn't do to let one of them slip through because he wasn't watching. Orcs were sneakier than most gave them credit for.

Milten sat down beside him on the stone floor, his back against the wall. He craned his neck and risked a peek outside through a gaping hole, where the wall had been blasted apart.

"They've been quiet for a while," he said. "Maybe they're gone?"

Harry shook his head. "Diego says otherwise. He thinks they're regrouping, but they'll be back."

"Well, Diego knows more about orcs than I do," Milten conceded.

Not taking his eyes off the path, Harry switched to a more comfortable position.

"Has he found a way out yet?"

"No. The blasted rocks are to steep to climb. And even if we could climb up, we would probably just run into more orcs, so it looks like we'll have to hack and burn our way out after all."

"Unless they manage to starve us to death first," Harry joked, grinning.

"Ah, yes. Some morbid humor never hurt anyone. Sadly, we have plenty of food."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"The supplies we took with us are all but gone. We have enough for one more day, perhaps. After that, it'll be orc stew."

Harry froze.

"You're joking, of course."

"Ha! I wish. Then again, I'll take orc meat over starvation. I've seen people starve before – it's not pretty. Besides, you've eaten some disgusting things before."

"Sure, but... orcs are intelligent creatures-"

"So are snappers. They ambush hunters, but you've sampled roasted snapper."

"You know what I mean!" Harry protested. "Orcs are sentient, like us. They have a culture, a language..."

Milten shrugged. "Suit yourself. There'll be more for the rest of us."

Harry licked his lips. "Great, now you've made me hungry."

Milten handed him a piece of stale bread and some cheese. Harry grunted his thanks and eagerly bit into his pitiful meal.

"I wonder if orcs ever give up," Milten muttered. "We must have killed several dozen already, and it's only been one day. Yet they kept coming."

"I reckon there are more of them under the Barrier than humans, and there are quite a few of us here."

"I don't doubt that, but there are only six of us – how many of their own are they prepared to sacrifice?"

"Judging by my count, a lot," Harry said between bites.

Milten's eyebrows rose. "You've been keeping track?"

Harry smirked at the mage. "Twenty-three."

"Right. I'm not sure I believe you."

"Jealousy does not become you, my friend."

Their argument was interrupted by the blearing of a horn coming from the north. They were on their feet within seconds, just in time to see several orcs emerge from between the rocks. Their leader was huge – the biggest orc Harry had ever seen – and clad in solid armor from head to toe. He brandished a broadsword at least as long as Harry was tall.

Milten retrieved his favorite runestone from the pouch on his belt and conjured a flame which he then threw in the orc's direction. The fireball splashed against the armor plates, but the orc didn't even slow down. Enraged, he swung his sword over his head and gave a thunderous roar.

Harry and Milten shared a look.

"I'm thinking let Gorn handle this one."

"Agreed. There are plenty more to kill, anyway."

Harry ducked behind cover as an arrow zipped over his head.

"Stay here, keep them scattered," Milten said. "You're good at this sort of thing. I'll see what I can do downstairs."

With that, the mage was gone. Now alone in his perch, Harry grabbed one of his runes and called on his magic, concentrating on a large rock, one of the many littering the ground. The pineapple-sized chunk rose into the air. Harry thrust his hand forward and the rock followed, smashing into an orc with the force of a cannonball. Harry directed the rock upward and then brought it down, burying it in the orc's chest.

With a grim smile, Harry yanked his improvised wrecking ball free and chose his next victim. The rock, now dripping orc blood, shot across the small battlefield as more orcs made their way up the narrow path, slamming into one of the new arrivals. The orc let out a yelp and stumbled backward, into several of his brethren. Harry prepared to end his life...

...but he rock was unexpectedly wrestled from his control and launched straight at him. He had just enough time to comprehend what happened and dive onto the floor.

"Sonofabitch!"

The rock tore through the wall, showering him with debris. He grunted in pain when a fragment landed on his back, knocking the breath out of him. The tool of his near-death was now a part of the opposite wall.

Another chunk demolished the wall further, reminding Harry of Dobby's rogue bludger.

So, the orcs brought their own mage along this time.

"You want to play? Let's play," Harry snarled, rolling away from the front wall. He wasn't going to hide up here when there was an enemy mage prowling the battlefield. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea of jumping into the fray on the ground, but he would find his target faster that way. The view from where was now left some blind spots and the mage could be in one of them.

He stormed down the stairs, jumping four, five at a time and left the building proper to step into a small, rectangular courtyard, surrounded by the crumbling ruins. Orcs were pouring in through a short hallway at the far end, walking straight into the swings of Gorn's axe and Lester's mace. Diego did his best to slow down their advance, letting loose arrow after arrow. Milten was nowhere in sight – he was probably inside the front building, wreaking havoc among the orcs' reinforcements. In the middle of all this chaos was Sirius.

Harry's godfather danced from orc to orc, a dagger in one hand and a runestone in the other, taking care of anyone who tried to flank Gorn and Lester. Watching him, it was hard to believe that he'd only been in the Colony for little over a year.

There was no finesse in Sirius' style – he simply aimed at the unprotected flesh, slashing and stabbing as he narrowly avoided the orcs' heavy blades. The runestone in his left hand glowed brightly, spitting fire in the orcs' faces. His technique left a lot to be desired, but his speed and keen balance made him no less deadly than any of their companions.

He ducked under an orc's fist and simultaneously stabbed his opponent in the gut - the dagger pierced the torn leather chestpiece like paper.

"Harry!" he yelled. "You're missing all the fun!"

Harry punched the air. His runestone lit up and the orc in front of him pirouetted away and bounced off the wall. Sirius leapt in his direction and plunged the dagger into the orc's chest.

Harry grabbed his own weapon – a lightweight hammer. In truth, it was just a three-foot long cane with an iron cuboid attached at one end. He'd tried out a number of weapons, but while he was quick on his feet, it had quickly become apparent that he had no talent for fine swordsmanship. A hammer was a good fit for him – crude, but effective. Put some force into the swing and the damage would be done.

He stood back to back with Sirius as several orcs circled them, communicating in their throaty language. Their intense body odour filled his nostrils, sharpening his senses. In a moment, these natural hunters would move in for the kill. Harry grinned in anticipation.

Just another day in the Colony.