A/N:

Hey everyone! I'm back, momentarily! (I'll return in earnest by the first of June).

The idea for this story sprang after I had finished the sixth chapter of Godly Dissension - safe to say, a long while back.

I recently looked at the Warcraft/HP compilations and decided to add my own piece to it. Whether it enriches it or makes it poorer is your decision.

This story is the first of a two part crossover – this depicts the events in the Warcraft world, and the sequel will tell the events of the Potter world. The first chapter will be the root of both stories. Please, read until the very end, you'll find out why.

Right – this chapter serves more as a light-hearted introduction. Forgive the parody aspect some parts of it may present.

NONE of the pairings here will continue on to the real story. So don't get your knickers in a twist. I definitely will not be favouring our young hero. Actually, he'll have a nice shock at the very end of the chapter.

Please, let me know if you have any additional concerns.

The Warcraft universe is a massive sandbox, every nook and cranny of it designed to perfection, and I intend to make full use of this fact.

Comments: This story is best read in a half width page format, with every other setting at default (unless you have preferences set for those).

Disclaimer: The recognizable part of the plot in this story is owned by its respective groups and their affiliations, and the character themselves likewise.

.oOo.

Part I – Apotheosis

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin

Of many a poor boy

And god, I know, I'm one.

- Snippet-verse from House of the Rising Sun, American folk song, first recorded by The Animals

Autumn's Eve

Spinner's End was a very happy community of people, all brought together in celebration of Michaelmas, for the first time in many years; all residents of Spinner's End were gathered around central sapling in the square. Hiding a very wet terrace of unnatural lilies and geraniums under its wild decorations, the sapling seemed to be the focus of the party. As the party drew to an end, no one noticed a lone, red-haired figure snap the highest branch and tuck it in a bag fitted for such purpose.

No one noticed the flickering light from the second floor bedroom of the run-down house at the end of the street, either.

When the red haired figure reached the house, she shimmered through and seemed to disappear into it. When she reached the bedroom with the bag in her hand, she took off her fur-tailed coat and purred adoringly at the other person in the room.

Acknowledging her with a glance, he gave her a tense searching look, then deciding to forgo the usual ritualistic greeting, snapped at her.

"Well, do you have it?" The undertone of anger was not subtle enough, but it was confusing – she had not failed before, nor had she failed now. She attributed it to the constant tension of their situation and silently promised to take care of him and nurse him into better moods after the ritual.

At the acquiescing nod from the red head the young man visibly relaxed and gestured at her to slip it into the circle drawn on the floor in front of them. After a nervous first step, the red head decided walking was not worth messing up the volatile circle and glided over to it before dropping the twig in. She gave a grim smile as she watched it catch fire all on its own – a grey, smoky, long-lasting and slow-burning fire.

When she turned around however, her inexperience coupled with the hasty possession of the new body caused her to inadvertently hit a small sand-timer from the nearby tabletop and smash it in the very middle of the circle. Normally, the sand timer would have had an unbreakable charm on it, but this one needed to be broken, and at the right time, for the ritual. This one was slightly off, and it shattered into a thousand pieces, the temporal sands spreading all over the area.

Her shriek warned the boy with her of her failure and he whipped around, giving an animalistic growl at the sight before him.

All that hard work, all that meticulous preparation – all for naught. The sands were too fine to be collected with a simple spell – no guarantee that dust wouldn't mix with it. The time was set, with no way of fixing it.

The seventeen year old boy sighed loudly before deciding to go on with the ritual. This was the only way he'd be able to fix his own mistakes. After all, he should have realized that spell modification was dangerous matter not to be meddled with; instead, he had ended up practically decimating the wizarding world. Voldemort had not been merciful and he seemed to have endless supply of death eaters, no matter how many Harry tore through.

"Right, Ginny." After a short glance at her pale face, Harry continued. "Because of that, we can't go together. I'll have to fix this all on my own, because Ron'd crucify my dead spirit if something happened to you. Give the girls my love, would you? Especially Bellatrix – tell her no hard feelings – even if she's been dead a couple months, I still think she's got a soft spot for me."

The corpse that Ginny was possessing simply gaped at him, dumbstruck, before Harry turned his wand on her and fired a high-grade soul banisher at her. The last thing Harry saw before the ritual activated was the horrible, betrayed look that Ginny sent him, and he shuddered to think what could have happened if he hadn't kicked her back.

He didn't know when he would get up, or indeed, when he would get up, but he'd be a fool if he let the past happen as it already had.

Harry woke up a couple years in the past and decided to name that waking moment, in a very original manner, 'the jump'.

.oOo.

Chapter I

Freedom and Misery

Two months after waking up from the jump

Harry woke up – at dawn – with a blinding headache gnawing at his temples – and if he had been his old tense self, he would have smashed something. Definitely not the kind of wake up he had been expecting, not after a nice night's rest following from the evening's relaxing massage. There was a certain stench in the air he wasn't able to identify – not the kind that stemmed from any well known after-party disasters, no – but it wasn't helping all the same. Getting up from the bed he began recollecting his thoughts, promptly jumping up in shock as he finished.

No, I need to clear my head, and this room... And this room needs proper scourgifying.

Harry took a look around and found what scared him. He wondered what the red, viscous goo-like substance all over the floor was; at a first glance, he would have easily guessed ketchup. After a closer look, though, he scrambled back in fright from the concoction. He'd seen it before, and the Lethargia – mind-numbing potion used in interrogations – was deadly in the right hands. Which meant that someone – and he had a disquieting notion it was Fleur – had tried to slip a vial of it down his throat.

So, Crouch Junior is already using someone as a proxy, hmm? I'll have to watch my back. I don't remember this happening to me.

After that, Harry began to meticulously clean his room, or rather, the Room of Requirement, which had hosted a rather large party the previous evening. In fact, it was only thanks to Fleur's ingenuity that Harry had managed to have his relaxing evening. After all, you can't really expect a house party to happen in the common room – McGonagall would have our heads! – and the Room of Requirement fit their needs perfectly: separate rooms on demand for maximum effective privacy.

Harry turned and looked around for the Beauxbatons champion everywhere in the different rooms that popped up within the Room of Requirement. His search yielded nothing of her current location, which aroused his suspicions once more – everyone else from the party was still inside, currently asleep. Most conspicuously absent from the sleeping bodies was one Hermione Granger and the one he had slept with – to the best of his knowledge – Fleur Delacour.

I should have known it was too good to be true. There is no way Fleur would have expressed any interest with me, not with me in this current fourteen year-old body, not with someone she knows so little about.

So, Harry established that Hermione had seen his reactions to Fleur, and had decided to seduce him with polyjuice.

The question that remained to be answered, now, was whether Hermione was the proxy that 'Moody' was using – and if so, to check whether she was under the imperius.

If not... well then, either I lost a good friend to the Dark Lord, or I have an unknown threat to take care of. Fan-fucking-tastic!

If it was Hermione though ... Of course, he'd try and get her back – there was no way he had gone through all that he did, battled and lost everyone that he had had, only to be betrayed and beaten now. No, if Hermione was simply a little more attracted to him than she let on and wanted to know him 'better', then no harm was done, but it would mean that someone else was trying to open up his deepest secrets.

Harry had prepared for the eventuality of losing to Voldemort; he just hadn't prepared for the eventuality of losing everyone to Voldemort before him. That was the main reason why he had asked Hermione to mess with the massive Time-Turner they had found in the Department of Mysteries, next to the Veil Room.

Too bad she died before she could join me in this time.

Harry surprised himself with the clear lack of emotion he showed; and indeed, he wasn't sure he could feel anything anymore about his life prior to the Time Jump. It was as if the event had created a disjunction between him and his previous reality – not that this was a drastically different one, either.

From what he had established, this was the same reality that he grown up in, with the notable exception of the fact that Harry had now irrevocably changed the timeline by popping into this world just a couple of weeks before the First Task.

The Gryffindors had held back the party until he had left Madam Pomfrey's, and he had rewarded them with free access to booze and Hogsmeade via a secret tunnel he had uncovered from Dumbledore. He had wanted to tell them about the Room of Requirement himself, but somehow the Terrible Twins had already known about them, a fact that surprised him considerably and had him on his guard.

.oOo.

Minerva McGonagall's announcement was met with a fair amount of apprehension – after all, how many of them knew how to dance 'properly'?

More importantly, how many of them had the courage and maturity to ask, both for help and for a date?

Not very many, that's for sure. The boys seemed especially jittery, even to themselves.

Thankfully, though, the professor seemed to have everything under control. That didn't mean Harry wasn't going to help his friends – a shimmering veil seemed to form over the whole room and dropped just a second before anyone could notice it and trace it back to him.

Professor McGonagall definitely needs her glasses, Harry snickered.

"Mr. Weasley, thank you for volunteering. Kindly stand up and step up to me."

The poor boy's stutters and mumbles forced everyone to choke back their laughter at his predicament. Nevertheless, Ronald Bilius Weasley showed that he deserved to be in Gryffindor by stomping the last few steps (after having heard his year mates' obvious choking sounds) and grabbing McGonagall's waist and hand.

The latter was quite flustered at the dominant attitude Weasley was showing.

"Mister Weasley! Have you waltzed before?" The slight astonishment present in the question was not missed by anyone – least of all the lazy, lanky Gryffindor himself.

The red head in question could only blush and nod his head slightly. The ensuing snickers related to the already established fact only made his face turn redder, and Harry felt pity for his friend's embarrassing situation. Inwardly, Harry mused about his emotions – they had all returned to manageable levels, and he was no longer prone to violent outbursts.

Getting up and crossing the floor to the girls' side, Harry did an exaggerated bow in front of a non-descript and worthless airhead... Lavender Brown.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" The positively impish smirk on his face gave away nothing of his prior thoughts.

Lavender's face, visibly flushed from the very obvious bow directed to her, turned a very tomato-red and quickly recovered by genuflecting in turn.

"Yes of course, milord." The giggles she let out at the end didn't serve to diminish the atmosphere around them in any way, but it did have one good effect – all of the boys stood up and began crossing the floor (to get to the other side).

The poor professor could only gape at them as they all took partners and headed onto the floor and began getting into the same positions as Weasley and herself. She cleared her throat, and the gramophone started playing at a slightly quicker pace. Accordingly, everyone stepped up their game.

"Oh my, Neville... I didn't know you could dance so well!" Hermione quite literally gushed at him.

Harry himself raised an eyebrow, though for a different reason – Hermione must have been hiding when Harry had walked up to them, or else he would have asked her straight away.

"T-to be honest, I, I didn't know either!" Hermione simply laughed off the startled and stammeringbloke who didn't know what he seemed to be saying.

Professor McGonagall just watched slack-jawed as everyone in the ballroom executed a perfectly synchronized choreographed waltz – this had to be impossible – after all, hadn't half of them as good as admitted they didn't know how to dance properly? There was either something fishy going on, or the twins were at it again. Nevertheless, she let the fun go on. Besides, she was enjoying herself, too.

"There's no need to move your hand up, Mister Weasley. Where it was before is just fine", she continued curtly, moving his hand back down to her hips.

A couple of minutes later, a fully embarrassed specimen of the Weasley family finally got to switch dance partners, and he managed to get close to Harry and Parvati.

Getting close enough wasn't that difficult, as the tempo of the dance ensured there was enough movement going around.

"Harry, mate, did you have anything to do with this? I mean... I know you questioned all of us couple nights ago if we could dance or not..."

Just as Harry was about to answer, though, he got cut off.

"Actually, you know what? I don't care if you did. I'm extremely grateful if you did, mate; stopped me from looking like a fool, and now we can finally get every girl in the year to admit that our house probably has the most noblemen than any other!"

Seamus Finnegan twirled a very red Eloise Midgen close enough so he could whisper his two Knuts to the conversation, too.

"Aye, mate. I heard Lisa Turpin and Su Li from the Claws saying they wouldn't mind any of us asking them!"

Another twirl later, he disappeared and Dean Thomas continued.

"Apparently, they'd thought only the Slytherins would've been educated in the proper etiquette. Imagine that!" He gave a small laugh and turned to his lovely chocolate dance partner.

Unfortunately for them, their current source of amusement ended too quickly – Professor McGonagall had called them to sit back down; time was up. The bell signalling the end of the lesson rang reluctantly, almost as if the school realised how much fun her students were having.

"Well, it seems all of you were more than adequately well instructed in this particular, ah, art. Though I suppose this lesson doesn't seem to have been completely unnecessary." She continued, giving a pointed look at Padma Patil and Terry Boot, who seemed intent on drawing each other's tonsil out.

Said offenders quickly backed away from each other, but not before giving each other looks that promised later action.

McGonagall continued with what she was saying, and by the end, the bell rung again, signalling the start of lunch.

Both fourth year sections of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables filled up five minutes after the start of lunch, and the feast began with gusto. Everyone noticed the beatific smiles on the girls' faces, and the confident, bordering on arrogant ones on the boys, but no one questioned it. As McGonagall discussed the recent happenings with the rest of the teachers, however, she noted that the Boy-who-lived was staring at her with gleeful smirk on his face, very reminiscent of another, similar looking boy and his friends, not so long ago.

.oOo.

Rita Skeeter woke up feeling quite drowsy. She shook her head, as if to rid herself of sleep's debilitating hold on her, and set for the kitchen to take some of the dizziness potion she kept for medical purposes.

After her head had cleared, she tried to recall what had happened the night previously.

She looked at the date; thankfully, it was the twenty-fourth of December, meaning that she hadn't slept through a whole day, and that she would still be able to cover the Yule Ball taking place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She noticed belatedly that she had apparently spent the night naked, and that for some reason her clothes were strewn all over the floor – near the entrance hallway. As slightly disturbing as it was, it did nothing to prepare her for the shock of her life.

"Oh hello Rita, I see you're up!" Rita jumped in fright and turned her head to face the bathroom she hadn't noticed had been locked.

Standing in front of her, in all his teenage glory, was one Harry James Potter. She took a moment to savour the sight in front of her before recoiling once more.

"What in Merlin's name?" Rita was starting to get extremely flustered – Harry hadn't tied his bathrobe in the front yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wouldn't mind me using your bath – it was extremely relaxing. I would have woken you up, but you looked so pretty while you slept."

Rita decided to ignore the veiled insult and the slightly mocking tone that Potter – Merlin, I just slept with an underage Harry Potter – had used with her, and opened her mouth a couple times before closing it just as quickly. She was trying really hard to figure out what to do and say so that none of this would be leaked to anyone.

"Rita? You didn't mind, did you?"

Rita squeaked out a no before turning away and placing her head in her hands. If this got out, the Daily Prophet would certainly not take her side over his – after all, this was the wizarding world's saviour. Most likely, she'd be discredited and all of her articles would come under question.

Noticing she was about to have a full nervous breakdown, Harry decided it was time to start playing all his cards right.

"Rita, my sweet, look at me."

If she was bothered by his familiarity, he couldn't tell. She did, however, look up to meet his eyes with her own, while her lips quivered as he drew close to her.

Harry sighed and ran one hand through her silky blond tresses. He rubbed his other hand up and down her arm trying to comfort her. He felt a cool, dry scaly ridge, and looked down to see a narrow golden band encircling her arm. He started to trace it, and realized she was (debatably) unwittingly wearing the jewellery he had gotten her the previous evening, in full show of tabloids.

"H-Harry?" Her stutter brought him out of his reverie, and he looked to her with reassuring glance, even though his insides revolted at doing this to her, of all people. If it had been him three years ago, he would have kept his glare of heated and passionate hate for the woman who nearly ruined his life. She couldn't keep his glance, and looked away after a bare few seconds.

"What are you afraid of, love?" Harry looked at her, trying to coax her into staring only at his eyes.

Rita for her part couldn't believe this was the Harry Potter she had interviewed not so long ago. There was no way the little boy who cried at the loss of his parents could be this suave, or enthralling.

"Did you think I was going to tell anyone, darling?" Harry's words caused her face to take on a scared expression once more. She meekly nodded her head at him.

Harry gave a short, mellow laugh. "Now why would I ever do that to you, my dear?"

Rita could only look at the boy she'd spent the night with open-mouthed.

"You mean you won't tell anyone?" Her tone was positively incredulous.

"No, of course I won't." Harry replied with a merry twinkle in his eyes that Rita did not notice was fake.

Just as she was about to say something, though, Harry cut her off again.

"Though, we will need to have an, ah, agreement, about the matter."

Shit! No wonder he said he wouldn't tell! He's probably going to force me to own up about the articles I've written about him! I knew this was too good to be true.

"Um, yes, of course! I'll ask for a full pardon in the next Prophet edition..." Harry immediately brought his right hand to cup her face and drew her to him.

"Now, now, Rita, why ever would you want to do that? Surely that would ruin your credibility for future articles?" By the end of that, Rita was gaping. What does he want? Oh Merlin... does he want more nights with me? Rita admitted to herself that she was slightly flattered by the thought, but the fact remained that he was still underage.

Harry, of course, through passive legilimency knew exactly what she was thinking, and let out a soft chuckle that interrupted her thought experiment. She realized that he must have noticed her expression, and prepared herself for the speech she was about to give.

"Harry, as flattered as I am about –"

"Don't worry, Rita. No, it's not what you think," Harry paused as she let out an almost unnoticeable relieved sigh before he continued, "No, what I would like for you to do is to swear just a simple magical oath, that's all."

Rita's blood froze at these words. She couldn't see a way out of this, though... Perhaps he'd let her off easy. After all, if he was noble enough to not want to destroy her career, and not take advantage of her ... situation, then he'd probably not do anything too brash, right?

She made her decision and steeled her resolve.

"I accept."

.oOo.

"See, Rita? I can feel this is going to be the start of a marvellous new relationship!"

Rita cringed a bit, but was elated. He had indeed let her off easy – after all, not publishing anything remotely derogatory about him was perfectly fine with her! She'd only done it because he was easy picking (at the time).

Just as Harry turned to leave, however, a horrible thought crossed her mind.

"Harry, wait!" Harry paused and turned at the sudden look of horror on her face.

"Yes, Rita?"

"I – I wasn't on the potion..."

Harry smirked internally before asking innocently, "What potion?"

The resulting flustered Rita was more than worth being held behind.

"You know... the potion." She said, pointing to her lower-belly.

"Oh! You mean that potion. Call it what it is, love. The contraceptive potion." Harry finished with a condescending and slightly derogatory tone before turning around without another word, with the intention to leave.

"Harry, wait! What if I get pregnant? With yours, I mean." Rita was extremely embarrassed by this – after all, Harry Potter, while (questionably) desirable, was nowhere near ready to be a father, and she certainly didn't want an unexpected little one on the way. His answer, though, made her question his sanity and education.

"Why would you be pregnant with my child, Rita? It's almost as if you seem to be under the impression that you and I did something together."

"What the hell do you mean? We had unprotected sex!"

At this point, it became too much for Harry, who burst out with laughter. After he calmed down, though, he replied with a clinical ease and cold tone that got her shivering.

"No, Rita. You thought we had sex. I never did anything with you. Not like I'd lower myself to the likes of you."

It hurt Harry to say that and it went completely against his normal, benevolent self, but he couldn't forget the hell that this woman put him through, before his time jump. He figured she deserved a bit of grounding before she got out of hand.

A slightly teary-faced Rita floundered about and stood up. "But – But you said that I looked – and the magical oath –" Harry watched as all of a sudden comprehension dawned on her and she started crying out loud.

"Yes, my sweet," Harry continued with a mocking sneer, "this was all about the oath. I used you just fine. But now you're in my pocket, you little witch, and you better remember where and how deep my hands can go."

Trembling, Rita fell back in her chair, hard, and began sobbing in earnest as the youngest Triwizard champion left her apartment.

It was only after a long crying session that she realized he had apparated away from her doorstep and began to rationalize her actions. There was no way she had become such a mess without some form of strong compulsion charm on her.

.oOo.

On the morning of the Ball, the boys who were still at school and not studying ran out the doors of Hogwarts onto the surrounding snow-blanketed grounds. After all, what better way to celebrate Christmas day – the Yuletide festival – than a massive snowball fight blown out of proportions?

Some of the teachers joined in the fun, as well. Professors Sinistra and Vector had a babble of boys who constantly tried to get them in hopes of getting their dresses wet, but a quick overpowered incendio fixed that particular problem for them. Since it was in the spirit of Yuletide, and the Ball was to be held later on, no one was given any proper telling off or proper punishment.

Harry was glad that for the first year ever, Ronald Weasley had been cleaning up after himself and got his act together. Said boy had realized (with some judicious prodding at the right times by a certain boy-who-lived) that he could amount to a lot if he picked up his game.

As such, he was now taking Parvati Patil to the Ball.

Harry had been slightly amazed that Ron had the courage to do it as early as he did, before many of the other good looking girls themselves had been asked to the ball themselves – in fact, Harry wondered if Ron had known that Lavender hadn't been asked when he'd chosen Parvati.

Since Ron didn't have a problem with it, though, Harry went with her.

Hermione had surprised them all (except for Harry, of course) by turning up at the side of Victor Krum. She looked brilliantly radiant, and was the centre of attraction for quite a bit of time before the opening dance.

"I've still only got eyes for you, Lav." Harry whispered softly to her ear.

The blush covering her face almost matched the one currently on Hermione's, now that she had everyone's attention on her.

The excitement continued for a little while before the Headmaster stepped up from behind the oaken table and muttered a quick sonorus.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please welcome the Triwizard Champions and their dates for the opening dance!"

The thunderous applause that ensued brooked no argument from any of them as they stepped up to their respective positions. Deciding to show off a bit (as the dance required a switch up of partners halfway through), Harry positioned himself at the right of Fleur, so that the leetle boy would be able to surprise the half-blood Veela with his natural charm.

"...And a one, two, three, four..."

The orchestra started playing just as all four males initiated the dance.

Roger Davies, Fleur's partner for the evening, seemed completely entranced by her allure, and was doing little better than following her moves all the time, barely keeping up. Harry laughed when he noticed, but none of the other guys seemed to having trouble in that respect.

The initially slow tempo of the dance, which increased incrementally till a certain level, now had them all going around and the girls twirling in circles at quite an impressive speed that made for an even more attractive display. Quite a few of the women attending the dance wished they were hanging around the arm of one the three male Champions.

Most of the men were visibly drooling at the combined sights of Fleur, Hermione and Lavender, the latter who had a slight allure charm placed on her by Harry, simply to incite envy at the school. He deemed it a nice prank for the evening.

After all, his date had to have her own shine, didn't she?

Halfway through the dance they switched partners and Harry conveniently ended up with Fleur.

The latter had gotten quite used to all men becoming drooling slobs at a mere gaze from her, and that in turn forced her to lead the dance with Roger. She wasn't expecting much from the 'leetle boy'-who-lived. She was in for a real surprise when he quickly began taking dominance and showing her the proper courtesies.

When they finished, and the Weird Sisters started up, Harry was forced to return to his own date. However, if the twinkle in Fleur's eyes were any indication, she wasn't averse to seconds.

.oOo.

Similarly, if the snog at the end of the evening was any indication, Lavender thoroughly enjoyed herself.

She claimed she needed to thank him adequately – he only replied that she did it already by gracing him with her presence.

Really – he didn't want to be snogging her senseless.

But hey, he was still a guy. A hormonal teenager, at that. Besides, it wouldn't be gentlemanly to refuse an advance from such a persistent lady.

When they left the Ballroom to head up to the common room, Harry didn't do anything.

When they went long into the night in the common room, Harry still didn't do anything.

When Lavender was about to pull him out of there in favour of the prefects' bathroom, though, Harry decided that things had gone far enough.

With a bit of passive legilimency he saw that Lavender was slightly nervous and excited – and also, more importantly to him – she hadn't done this with anyone else before. Oddly touched by the fact that Lavender would actually be happy to have him as a proper boyfriend (because there was no way she would be doing this if she didn't get a confession from Harry about liking her a lot), Harry decided the easiest way to deal with it would be to let her think before wanting to do anything forward when heavily dosed with alcohol.

A quick somnus and a mild memory modifier charm (which would cause her to remember nothing had happened and that she'd simply gone to sleep after they'd done snogging – essentially what was going to happen) later, Harry carried her up to the girls' dorm and knocked on the door.

Thankfully, the stairs worked based on intent.

Astonishingly, a very naked and giddy Hermione opened the door – and to her horror, noticed that Harry was standing there carrying Lavender in a bridal hold.

Hermione let out an ear-piercing squeal before diving behind the nearest curtains. Parvati, who had just recently gone up from her relaxing evening with Ron just shook her head trying to repress a smirk before motioning to a bed near the window-pane on the farthest corner of the room.

"Thanks, Parvati. Did you have a nice evening with Ron?"

Harry entered and walked towards Lavender's bed.

"Oh yes! Yeah, it was great. He was fantastic; he's such a nice guy... I mean..." as she trailed off, she noticed the slight glow on Lavender's face as she slept in Harry's arms, breathing quite softly. Her eyes widened comically.

"Did you – Did you two, you know, did you actually do it?"

Harry's eyebrows perked up at the question before giving a quiet chuckle.

"No. No, I wouldn't let things go that far while she's not in a state of proper judgement. Never know – she might regret me in the morning." With a smile, he slid his wand down his sleeve and pulled the covers back, and gently positioned Lavender in her bed, before covering her up again.

"Oh," Parvati had a slight blush on her face. "Oh, okay. I mean, that's very ... nice of you. And no! She definitely would not regret it! I mean – I ..." She grew quite flustered by the end of this, causing Harry to just laugh a little more. He turned and noticed Hermione was still behind the curtains, and that she also had a slight awed expression on her face, which she quickly hid with an approving smile.

"Oh, by the way, you wouldn't happen to know where her nightdresses are, would you?"

Before Parvati could say anything, Harry justified himself. "It's just that she'd probably not want to mess up such a beautiful dress by sleeping in it, so..."

Parvati was still slightly suspicious of exactly how Harry would get it on her without 'doing anything more', as he claimed, but decided to watch. She answered by pointing to the nearest heap of cloths, and a silver satin night dress caught his eye – apparently, Lavender was neat enough to fix her night clothes before going to the Ball.

He waved his hand over it so that it looked like he was still using his wand, and immediately the dress that Lavender had previously been wearing switch places with it.

With a smile reminiscent of a job well-done, Harry thanked the two ladies for passage and got out of the room in an unhurried fashion.

It was only after he'd left that Hermione noticed the mirror behind her.

.oOo.

In the morning, Lavender would wake up to the faces of her three roommates, all with a slightly jealous tinge to their interrogative expressions.

Hermione led the Spanish Inquisition.

"Okay, explain what happened last night between the two of you! He practically put you to sleep!"

When Harry overheard the gossip later on during breakfast, he almost choked on his pumpkin juice.

It turned out afterwards that Lavender had decided Harry was worth all the trouble and she made it known by claiming a seat next to him in every one of their shared classes.

Harry didn't have any problems with it – after all, Fleur would probably need a proper hostage for the second task, and Harry himself obviously didn't fit the bill.

No, Harry wasn't feeling down at all, no sir.

He even had a very beautiful girlfriend who actually liked him for who he was (at least, he hoped so).

He'd made sure afterwards, of course. He had developed a disconcerting habit of slight paranoia and distrust ever since his sixth year. The time jump hadn't gotten him to forget that aspect of his personality.

He heard another interesting story from the Yule Ball night, though.

Apparently, Seamus Finnegan had 'pulled a Harry', as it were, and had done practically the same thing he'd done, but this time it was to Tracey Davis, one of the only half-bloods of their year in Slytherin. Millicent Bulstrode had been particularly helpful to him.

Except he got cornered by Nott, Goyle and Crabbe on his way out. The funny part was that Zabini, Blaise Zabini stood with him against them.

Things would have gotten worse, if it hadn't been for the fact that Daphne Greengrass herself entered with an unidentified Gryffindor on her arm, and the couple roughly shoved everyone away down the middle so that Nott didn't get the chance to get his wand out.

A couple of somnus and a stupefy later, Zabini had shaken hands with Finnegan as the latter had been escorted out.

A new era of friendship and breakthroughs was beginning at Hog – No. Blaise hadn't acted much more than polite and reserved with Finnegan afterwards. Nobody found any reason to disturb the peaceful status quo that reigned in the aftermath of that, and everything went just perfect for everyone involved.

.oOo.

Harry was actually enjoying himself a lot more than he would have previously thought, with Lavender. There was, unquestionably, substance and depth to her that he hadn't bothered to get to know before his jump. He almost regretted that, if it weren't for the fact that they were currently getting to know each other extremely well, and she seemed to have a burning desire for his throat.

Fleur didn't want to admit it, but the hickeys around his neck had put her off a lot more than she'd intended, and as such she was much more distracted in her daily interactions – a fact that didn't go unnoticed by either him or Madame Maxime. Neither cared, so long as it didn't put her off track for her second task – which she had assured her Headmistress that she had taken care of.

Fortunately for her, Harry didn't quite believe her when he heard it later from his very own little ladybug, so one night at dinner about three weeks before the second task Fleur found a small piece of parchment slipped into her hand by the handsome little boy.

'Pine fresh – c'est le mot de passe pour les baignoires privées, troisième porte à gauche dans le couloir en haut. Prend l'œuf pour un p'tit bain. Je t'expliquerai là-bas, si tu viens, vers minuit.'

She raised an eyebrow at the insinuation, but decided to humour him nevertheless. After all, he had definitely intrigued her before, and if his skills at the both the First Task and the Yule Ball were anything to go by, he would certainly be a useful asset. Not to say she didn't have her reservations, though.

Quand même, ça aurait été bien d'avoir reçu l'aide de quelqu'un ayant un peu plus de délicatesse et de maturité qu'un gosse comme lui.

Mais j'me doute de quoi, moi – tout ça, c'est normal – ces anglais ne savent vraiment rien du raffinement. Quelle horreur!

Thankfully for her, Harry hadn't read her surface thoughts; that would have easily put him off his noble intentions and left him fuming in anger.

Fleur turned around to him and gave him a short, stiff nod before going back to her food. Harry took it as a good sign – he was right after all; she hadn't known. Harry sat down with a satisfied sigh, and picked up his fork once more.

He was in fact quite nervous; Fleur was around his actual age, and moreover, he hadn't done anything with her before the time jump. So in fact, he was going in practically blind and mostly uninformed.

She'd also never given him much thought before she had died in his time. She had eyes only for Bill, and as loath as Harry was to admit it, he was glad he would be able to get a chance with her this time around without the presence of Weasley n° 1.

He had been insanely jealous of Bill.

The non-destructive kind of jealousy, but it was still jealousy, and that emotion dictated that he took every chance offered to him to be able to make up for lost time and try and get the girl.

Harry was actually glad that Gabrielle was quite similar to her sister – it gave him a slight indication as to what Fleur might be like, and what she might want. Even though he hadn't ever pursued things with Gabrielle, she had developed a sort of hero-worship complex for him that he really couldn't do anything about. Unfortunately, her complex changed her personality, so Harry still wasn't sure if Fleur and his Gabrielle could be considered similar.

Either way, it was only in the aftermath of the second task that Fleur was a bit warmer towards him. So he believed that if he could somehow get on her good side even before the task, her cold demeanour might just crack around him.

Harry sighed; he didn't really understand his obsession for Fleur. Without giving it much more thought, though, he went to prepare himself for the upcoming confrontation – he had no illusions about how it would start off.

.oOo.

Fleur was happy to notice that Harry Potter hadn't misled her – but she was long ways off of even beginning to trust his intentions. For some reason, something about the boy seemed off. She wasn't able to identify what it was that she considered so off-putting, but there was definitely something about him that marked him as different from the others, and just as dangerous as any other seventh year she had seen and met so far.

She entered that private bathroom just like Harry had instructed her to – she had learnt from some of the Ravenclaws that it was better known as the prefects' bathroom, but she was not prepared for the sheer opulence of it, compared to the rest of the school.

Apparently, the Beauxbatons' copy was just a mash-up of this one, with a bit more lighting and a little less statues and space – in other words, she loved it. She was slightly irked by the living mermaid statue, which seemed to be glaring at her with equal disdain, but she decided to ignore that in favour of the brilliance of the actual baths; they were gigantic and seemed deep enough to be able to be completely submerged in, even for her.

The water was clear; so clear, in fact, that she was able to notice the younger Triwizard champion right away. She looked to his face, searching for any signs of treachery.

What she saw didn't make her happy at all, but, as she put it herself so well, au moins je n'ai pas affaire à un baltringue.

Indeed, Harry Potter was looking at her with undisguised emotion – raw, almost palpable hunger, even. Just as he opened his mouth when his jaw slackened, he realized what he was doing, and quickly coughing and spluttering the water out of his mouth he stood up from the bath.

As his fit ended, he shook his head slightly and addressed her.

"Bonsoir, Fleur. Merci d'être venue, et plus précisément, je te remercie pour ne pas avoir divulgué le mot de passe."

Slightly intrigued by the fact that his French was indeed as immaculate in pronunciation as it was in writing, Fleur acquiesced his thanks and returned her own, in her own mother tongue, phrasing the sentence complicatedly so as to check if he 'really' knew how to speak French, and not just some memorized lines.

Satisfied with the smile and the casual 'J'ten prie', Fleur opened her next line of questioning.

(A/N For the purposes of reader comprehension I'll stick to writing French in English. Suffice it to say that whenever Fleur speaks to her sister, friends, parents or Harry, she speaks in French.)

"How did you know about this?"

"Actually, I sort of got lucky... I was frustrated and annoyed, and I decided I needed to take a hot, nice, long shower, and so I ended up here."

Seeing Fleur's suspicious looks at how he even got 'here' in the first place, Harry hurried on.

"And then I got startled by Arielle – she's the mermaid statue – and I tripped and fell with my bag and egg into the water. Once the egg hit the bottom, the latch opened up ... go on, you try it. Make sure you can hear the scream while it happens."

Fleur decided that either this was a very elaborate plot setup by Harry in some sick scheme to get her wet, or he was telling the truth, and she decided to give him a chance.

She never expected his original reason to have been both¸ and when she heard for herself the message within, she immediately let go of her suspicions and jumped out of the bath to give Harry a long, drawn out hug, which left him mumbling and blushing quite unlike what he was used to.

For Merlin's sake, man! I've seen Hermione naked and not raised more than an eyebrow! How is she affecting me this much!

Unfortunately for Harry, though, Lavender Brown happened to chance upon the prefects' bathroom that same night while looking for him, and found it unlocked. Curious, she slipped inside to a very unsavoury sight. Seeing red, Lavender got to conclusions much quicker than she would have if she had been analysing the situation in an impassive manner, and bellowed out a bombarda.

"HARRY BLEEDIN' POTTER! HOW DARE YOU, YOU TWO TIMING BASTARD!"

Lavender's screech quickly tore the two teens apart and unluckily for Harry, his blushing face and eager sex told Fleur everything she needed to know.

"Oh you disgusting pig! And I thought you were helping me through the goodness of your heart!" Fleur quickly stormed out over a rather indignant-looking Lavender and a completely confused Harry.

He quickly schooled his face to a pleading look and ran towards Lavender with an overpowered protego to curb her furious onslaught.

"Lav, darling, I was only helping her for the tournament, I swear! Please, you've got to believe me!"

Lavender turned away from him in anger, and even the mighty Harry Potter had to face the fact that he had royally arsed himself in her eyes. No amount of pleading would reason with an emotional Lavender Brown, especially seeing as she had an easy-to-flare temper.

However, Harry wasn't James' son for no reason. Perseverance always got him results, and so he followed her around without hounding her, but still managing to look like a lost puppy. Every time he wanted to start talking, though, Lavender would glare at him and he would refrain from doing anything other than simply following her around. He figured that if nothing else, that would at the very least get her used to his presence mentally and thus get her to accept him and start to miss him should he disappear. Fortunately for Harry, the wild goose not-really-a-chase, which dragged him around the whole school at least once ended in front of the Gryffindor common room.

"Look, Harry! I don't care about your excuses!"

"But Lav..." Harry was cut off, as usual.

"Don't call me that!"

"Would you please just listen to me? This is the first time I've been in a situation like this – I swear by my magic and my life that I haven't cheated on you!"

As a bright glow embraced Harry, Lavender gave a loud gasp and abruptly slapped him. Shakily, she took a step back. This was not going anything like any of them had planned. After a moment, she regained her voice.

"Harry! How dare you make an oath on your life! You could have died! Or worse, lost all your magic!"

Not for the first time, Harry questioned her priorities. Without voicing them, of course; he wasn't going to stick his foot in his mouth again. Instead, he continued with his answer.

"It just seemed like the only way you would look at me or even her me out. I'm sorry if I scared you, and I'm happy you care."

Harry's eyes had taken a distant look as he finished the sentence, and Lavender's own eyes glistened.

"Of course I care, Harry," Lavender replied in a soft tone before leaning close to him and giving him a long and tight hug, "it's just that it's really difficult seeing you with someone else... and seeing your obvious reaction to it." Lavender finished with a glare.

Harry fumbled about before answering. "Lavender, you're the only one I really care for, I swear. What happened with Fleur is exactly as I said before – I was helping her with the egg – for the second task, you know."

He hoped she would not notice his omission or his lack of response to his reaction issue.

"And the intensely emotional hug which got such a rise out of you?"

So much for that hope.

"Lav, I'm a male teenager. I have hormonal reactions I can't control. Please," at this Harry dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together – overdoing it couldn't possibly hurt –, "please believe me – I meant what I said at the Ball. I've still only got eyes for you."

That was all it took to for Lavender's resolve to crumble – not that it was that great in the first place when it had to deal with anything related to Harry – and she jumped in his arms with a passionate kiss.

.oOo.

The day of the second task was upon them, and Harry had really not wanted to let go Lavender the night before. By the time they had finished cuddling, a somewhat amused Lavender followed an irritated Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office, reassuring her boyfriend that she would return soon. She didn't notice McGonagall's lips twitch, and neither did she see Harry's concealed smirk.

Thankfully for her, though, Harry was prepared. The self-transfiguration spell he had been working on worked marvellously – it seemed he had inherited some of the natural ability of his father. As a result, Snape wouldn't be complaining about stolen potions ingredients.

Just like before, Fleur had trouble with grindylows. Just like before, Harry James Potter came to the rescue.

This time, though, he managed the whole thing in a far more elegant manner, naturally enhanced by his transformations. He gracefully swam to the platform without surfacing, and only released his treasures once he was certain of their safety.

Naturally, he was well rewarded later on during the day.

.oOo.

Despite all of his precautions, though, Harry was not able to protect everyone. In his previous time, Cedric had died – this time, Harry had decided that he wouldn't act chivalrous. Chivalry, after all, kills people – a valuable lesson that he had learned previously, on many occasions.

He hadn't taken into account the fact that Death doesn't like to be cheated – in fact, she holds quite a famous grudge, and she'll find a way to exact vengeance, even if she doesn't kill you outright.

It was the day of the third task. Harry, being in the lead, had started off before the other three and was currently facing what seemed to be some sort of an illusion mixed with an inferius. Not wishing to spend too much time on figuring out the issue, he quickly sent an incendio to take it out while spelling his eyes to ignore the illusion. Passing through the challenge, he came to an abrupt stop.

Sat in front of him on the pedestal was the Triwizard Cup – but this wasn't where it had been last time. Shrugging it off with only a slightly nervous feeling Harry picked up the cup, expecting the portkey to take him to the graveyard in Little Hangleton.

He got a rude shock when instead he heard a scream nearby – where he immediately ran to – only to find Fleur sobbing about a masked death eater appearing and sending a stunner at Cedric and disappearing with his catch.

Actually, Harry pondered for a brief moment, Fleur is extremely articulate for being in such a sobbing state.

Then, of course, his hereditary saving-the-people gene kicked in (also in tandem with his sense of survival) and he made a portkey out of the cup he was holding before apparating to a certain graveyard full of memories.

What he had not expected was a gleeful Wormtail tying up an obviously confused Death Eater to the stone statue that had once nearly been Harry's demise. Diggory was on his back, trying to get up but struggling impotently against an invisible all-encompassing barrier, and Harry had no way of assessing exactly what he was dealing with.

He could only watch in shock as Voldemort resurrected all of a sudden, completely at the wrong time from what he was expecting. He hadn't even noticed the cauldron behind the massive gravestone that was shielding him from view.

He was about to drop everything he had planned and just grab Cedric and port back when he was interrupted by a voice that sent shivers through his spine.

"A minute of your time, Potter!"

Voldemort had put up both anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. Harry wondered at that, but then realized he must have expected Cedric to know apparition.

All around the wards, Harry could now see the numerous Death Eaters who had answered their lord's call. The situation was dire, and there was little hope in sight.

Shit. Fucking SHIT! I should have alerted the headmaster previously. Now this stupid fucking oversight might just kill us!

Harry turned to Cedric to see a resolved and hard stare looking determinedly at him. Silently lauding his courage and stoic nature, Harry placed a compulsion charm on him to apparate himself back to the Triwizard Tournament grounds the millisecond the wards drop.

Now that he had covered that, the only thing left was to keep him alive till that happened.

Fortunately for Cedric, the moment came sooner than Harry expected.

Unfortunately for Harry, the moment came before he had the time to establish a proper way to salvage the situation.

"I'll come back for you, Harry, I swear." Cedric murmured as he vanished away, much to the consternation and protests of the Death Eaters gathered around them. They had not expected either of the two to have enough energy to port away after what seemed to be extremely strenuous actions.

This Voldemort was not what Harry was used to – he seemed much more willing to use the organ in his cranium to maximum effect. As such, he needed to capitulate on the fact that Harry Potter was still here, while there was a chance that others with more benevolent intentions than him were going to port any moment and engage in a full scale battle with him, so soon after his rebirth.

This was something that Voldemort could not allow – he needed to destroy their primary sources of morale – one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

He quickly engaged Potter into a one-sided duel, exacting swift revenge for the years of pain that he had suffered at the boy's hands, and just as he was about to end it, he noticed a series of pops signifying people apparating just outside the wards that he had lowered for a moment for his Death Eaters to enter through.

Foremost among them was Albus Dumbledore, and surprisingly, Cornelius Fudge.

With a snarl of rage, Voldemort continued his onslaught all the while commanding his servants to power the wards by any possible means – even blood magic.

"See, Potter, we've got ourselves an audience today! How utterly delightful to have the world watch you burn while it stands yards away, in impotent rage!"

Harry always had a succinct answer, and this time was no exception.

"Fuck you, Tom! They'll break through, and I'll have the pleasure of destroying you once again!"

Harry was, of course, continuously dodging and wheezing out air as the fight got more and more brutal. In fact, Voldemort was surprised that Harry knew some of the spells that he did; for some reason, he suspected foul play – this mere boy could not know such spells, or fight with such alarming ability.

No matter – he was Lord Voldemort, and nothing would stand in his way. He always had a plan. With a malevolent smirk, Voldemort unleashed a massive area-wide destruction spell which wove away from his servants and Harry, before gloating for a short while to the frustrated audience surrounding them outside his dome-like structure.

"Spectators! Allow me to give you a show that you will not forget for a long while!"

He strode towards Harry in a relaxed pace, beckoning the young wizard to get himself up and ready after a moment's respite.

"How many of you are familiar with the soul, the animus of a person? And the magic pertaining to this domain? Not many? How... disappointing." The snide remark was not lost on anyone.

"Well, let me enlighten you. When we are born, half of our soul is human and powers the body and mind. What you don't know, is that there exists another half to our soul.

A divine half."

Giving a moment for the look of disbelief to wash from the faces of the audience, Voldemort continued.

"Yes, all of us, when we are born, possess a divine half to our soul. I, however, lost that before I even knew it." At that, Voldemort chuckled lightly, and an uneasy laughter followed in the ranks of his servants.

"Indeed – acts that corrupt the divinity of a soul cause us to forever lose this half, which some call conscience, other call morality. I lost mine completely before I could do something about it – not that I regret it that much. This divinity," Voldemort continued scathingly, "after all, is a major weakness and flaw."

Many were wondering why Voldemort was taking so much time explaining something that they viewed as extraneous to the situation. They were enlightened the very next moment.

"And do you know the pain that can be caused by forcefully ejecting this divine half of our soul? No? Well, you're all in luck. Mr. Potter here is about to find out."

With an insane quality about his reptilian face, Voldemort cast an extremely quick spell at Harry, who did not have the time to dodge and merely stood in shock while the spell hit him.

A moment passed, and he felt nothing.

Another passed, and he realized he really could not feel anything at all. Harry Potter was completely numb.

And at last, feeling returned to his nerves, and thus began the pain.

Harry Potter was writhing on ground from the immeasurable pain he was suffering without being able to pass out; a cruel torture in the minds of everyone watching. Harry had suffered at the hands of Voldemort's cruciatus curse just previously; one would have expected him to have developed a slight tolerance to the pain, or at least numbness.

Nothing could compare with the pain that he was currently feeling, not a tenth of it closer.

The audience could only watch in horror as a slight golden hue emanated from his screaming mouth and bloodied nose, as if his very essence was leaking out. As soon as it had left, the screaming toned down to whimpers.

Before long, the whimpering husk that was once the body of Harry Potter disintegrated before their very eyes, leaving two glowing orbs of light in its wake; one golden, and the other white.

Voldemort made a note to himself to practice the spell properly; using it for the first time ever was bound to fail at some level – after all, he had intended the human part of Harry's soul to suffer indefinitely in the husk that was now dust.

It was his turn to be shocked, however, when a loud, booming voice made itself known from the golden orb.

"And one thing that you should know, Voldemort, is that you have now freed a minor aspect of the Light from its human counterpart. We are now free, unfettered by the laws that govern us all!"

This show just got its viewer ratings and satisfaction increased tenfold, Harry's human soul commented. It turned towards his divine counterpart before giving a quick flash of light, signifying it agreed with the decision.

Merging would be best for the both of them.

When the two converged, however, under the fascinated eyes of everyone in their presence, they seemed to annihilate each other they could feel that something was going wrong.

Indeed, because Harry's human soul was now in human form, aged down to an eight year old, and hurtling frantically towards the front door of a house. It hit the door at high velocity and immediately lost consciousness.

Amnesia now had its hold on him, and even though he didn't know it, Human Harry was now on Earth – delta, 1988. The house he had crashed into happened to be the Potter's residence.

Some would say serendipity; others would say that the Light watched over him. Both would be right.

Back on Earth – alpha, the Divine part of Harry's soul was similarly catapulted far away, but unlike his human counterpart, he managed to remain in this universe.

Unfortunately, it found itself on the wrong planet, and in the form of what the local populace would call an elemental, albeit an unusual and illogical one - a holy elemental.

Azeroth now had its own tangible pseudo-deity of the Light, years before the arrival of the Naaru and the Exodar.

Right, so what do you think?

I'm sure by now many of you have realized I have an unnatural tendency to include demons and angels in my stories - luckily for me that both exist in the Warcraft universe, in various forms.

I'll endeavour to address every single concern and comment as soon as they're posted, and I'm willing to make concessions to valid arguments. Critics are most welcome, as long as they keep an open-mind.

The pairings of this story will be explored in the next chapter, and you will be able to vote on them at the end of it. In this story, it's very likely to be Harry/Sylvanas, or Harry/Aegwynn.