Eyes as Green as Fel – Harry Potter x World of Warcraft

The Discovery

Harry awoke in rotting darkness.

The sickly stench of rancid milk mixed with old fat and meat. The musty smell of mould joined in the aromatic cacophany that assaulted his senses.

The air was hot and humid, difficult to breath, as he lifted his bruised and sore limbs to feel the cooling plastic lid above him. Struggling slightly he pushed and felt the plastic shift but not move.

Grunting, he braced his back against it and pushed up with all his meagre might.

A surge of orange light filled his vision as the lid flew back, slamming against the wall behind him.

Sweet fresh and cooling air filled his lungs as relief flooded through his small frame.

Carefully, he scrambled out of the dumpster and to the now cool concrete.

Harry had been moved only a few metres from where Dudley and his gang had caught him after their latest hunt. He flexed his arm with a hand holding his ribs on the right. It ached but nothing hurt too much. His left eye was puffy, but the swelling was already fading. His tongue quickly found the gap in his teeth from the blow that had knocked him out, the taste of blood a normal occurance now for the eight year old.

No-one in sight. Not surprising at how late it seemed. The sky was clear of clouds, only the stars shone, the moon new and hiding. Everything was tainted orange by the streetlights overhead.

For a single moment, Harry let his mind free and drift, before the stench slapped him in the face once more.

Grimacing, he looked around and found the back of the charity shop had a pile of bags waiting for the rubbish men.

Carefully, he tore open a few and took some of the clothes that would fit him. Torn and worthless, they found a use in his hands. He used the old tap in the wall to wash away the rubbish stuck to him and the stench upon his skin. The cold water refreshing even with the slight rust smell that came with it.

Quickly changing, he took a few more rags for when he got back home. Harry gathered the dirty clothes and cleaned them as best he could in the cold water, squeezing as much water from them as he could, he then bundled them up before wrapping them in the torn bags, trying to keep as much of the remaining stench inside as he could.

As he stood with his bundles, a flash of purple caught his eye.

Kicking a few broken pieces of junk away, Harry uncovered an old and battered book, the flash of purple had come from a purple gem embedded in the front of the book. There was an old and battered lock holding it closed, heavily scratched from people tryign to pick it, and there was no sign of a key nearby. Harry ran his finger over the strange set of markings that circled the keyhole, dropping it suddenly as he felt a sharp prick on his finger.

As it hit the floor, the book opened.

Harry's eyes widened as he watched the strange markings ripple to show his own handwriting.

Shakily, he reached down and froze as the strange markings made sense to him, he was a smart boy, who could read above his age, the librarian helped him with words he didn't understand, but the meanings of the words seemed to just leap into his mind, images, tastes and scents filled his consciousness with each word. Quickly, he read the first page.

So, this is an odd human custom. To help their memories, they write their experiences down. Not something I really think matters, but Jandice suggested it to me. And by suggested I mean dropped this book in my lap, spine down mind you, during lunch.

When I had recovered from the sudden pain and waited for her laughter to end, she explained the tradition to me, apparantly my notes around my study had annoyed her. At least this way I can keep my research and thoughts in a single location and not across the lawn when someone opens a window in my study.

I am also apparantly meant to treat this book as a friend or confidant, as well as introduce myself.

I explained that seemed a rather stupid thing to do and when I dried myself off and removed the wine stains, I agreed to do so. I have few friends in this world and have no interest in upsetting those I care about.

Therefore, I shall introduce myself to you.

An inanimate, nonsentient book.

Oh how the mighty have fallen if I am reduced to this to appease a human.

I shall have to fix that as I add defenses to your form.

I am known in these lands as Hadrian Blackrock, I shall not describe my parentage nor my true name as such secrets hold power. I have been known to dabble in alchemy and enchanting during my spare time. Know that I am more than talented in the arcane although my research currently focuses upon the Fel.

If I must use a tainted power to fight my Father, then better Demons than the Old Gods.

I have seen firsthand what their influence can bring about on both sides and I refuse to submit.

I currently reside within the halls of the Barov Estate overlooking Caer Darrow in the Lordaeron Empire. I am a guest of the Lord Barov and, in exchange for his hospitality, I have tutored his daughter in secrets kept from her by her mentors amongst the Kirin-Tor. Those craven wastes of breathe see threats in knowledge and magics beyond their adamantite grasp of control, only the Guardian himself seems beyond their attempts to censor.

And myself of course.

Harry slammed the book shut.

Magic.

Magic is real.

That must be the explanation of the strange things that have been happening to him.

He opened the book to the last page, wondering what had happened to Hadrian.

They are almost here.

The Infinite Dragonflights attempt to bring about the Hour of Twilight and my Fathers destruction have given us time but also paradoxically sped up the need to act. We knew that there is no way that such actions would not draw the attentions of the Legion fully upon Azeroth. The greatest guardians have weakened themselves, the armies of mortals much reduced. Relics of power are lost or damaged from the conflict. Never has there been a more perfect moment to strike than now. The Fell Hammers are gathering. The Call to War echoes amongst the Twisting Nether.

My plan to distract the Burning Legion has worked, but at great cost. The destruction of the Pit Lord Mazrakor and his world would draw our enemies focus and ire upon me and mine. The time we have gained by our sacrifice is small, but small things can change the world the most.

I have to trust that Kairoz will be able to finish the work needed to defeat the Legion. The plan is sound, I just hope he chooses a suitable leader to build the new Horde around. The version of Draenor we found will be an excellent staging ground to begin working upon, there is plenty of potential upon that world. Potential wasted by history. Chronormu would likely skin us alive for our actions, but she is busy elsewhere trying to fix other matters whilst she still can. I miss her advice, she always looked out for me, even as a hatchling, perhaps she knew what I would do or become?

I have searched far and wide for a world for Clara to hide upon. I had hoped to witness my childs birth, but at least they will have a chance to live. I will burn most of my essence just to create a breach into the world, it will last long enough for her to get clear before the portal will collapse. The Legion will believe that it was an attempt by me to escape them, their defeat of me will end their interest.

The twisting nether barely leaks into the world, there is not enough magic to sustain an invasion without some form of enhancement, it will be safe for her and our child.

Dalia has just informed me that we have been discovered. My remaining students have moved to repel boarders alongside their demons. Volunteers all, they make me proud to be their teacher.

I shall forge a soulstone to carry some of my power for Clara to call upon in an emergency, I lack the time or spare power for more than that.

I will send this journal as well for my child.

Within are my notes and many of my secrets, may they keep you safe when I cannot.

Know that I love you and your mother with all my heart.

I will die today, there is no way for me to avoid that. But my final acts shall protect you from their vengeance.

But know this. We will stand tall and proud against our enemies. We will die free.

Harry closed the book and wrapped it carefully in some of the clothes. He needed to go home and find somewhere to hide this so he could read more.

00000

Three months had passed since finding the journal and Harry had learnt so much, but all good things must come to an end.

Harry had been hiding in the garden from the latest hunt, his finger following the intricate pattern drawn on the page, commiting it to memory. His peace was broken by a flabby hand grabbing the book and yanking it away.

"Mum! The freak has a book!"

"Give it back Dudley." Harry hissed at him, fear pounding through his veins.

Dudley simply grinned maliciously at him, "Mum!"

"Yes Dudley, whats the matter?"

"Mum, the freak has a book."

Petunia's eyes narrowed as she took the book from her son. "What is this?"

Harry whispered, "Its just a book."

"A book. And where did you get a book from?"

"Mum!" Dudley whined, "it wasn't real writing, it was a bunch of squiggles that moved. It was freaky like him."

At the look of abject disgust on petunia's face, Harry paled at what this would mean. "Inside," she hissed.

Harry entered the kitchen and barely turned around when the book struck him in the face with a sharp crack.

He blinked up from the floor, blood dripping from his mouth where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek and his lips, several of his teeth wobbled from the blow.

"Stand up." She hissed in rage at him.

As he did so she struck him again, knocking him to his knees. "How dare you bring such filth into this house! How dare you try to taint us with your freakishness." The book slammed into his face again, a sharp crick noise echoed as pieces of purple crystal mixed with blood and shattered teeth on the floor as harry's head slammed into the linoleum.

The spine of the book rammed into his ribs, "How dare you make a mess like this in my kitchen, you ungrateful freak."

Harrys eyes tried to focus, but one eye wasn't working right, the other focused on the purple shards as they hissed and melted into his blood, a strange swirl of faint purple bled into the red.

"I'll show you. I'll make you suffer for what you've inflicted upon us. I'll..."

Harry would never know her next words as through broken teeth and bloody mouth, straining against his broken ribs and a punctured lung, Harry spoke a single word, a word with power, fuelled by his unknown magic, his heritage and his blood and pain, a single word which would change his world.

A word unknowingly spoken in the tongue of Demons.

A name.

"Dalia."

00000

Harry awoke in a world of grey mist and howling winds.

The sky was a swirling vortex of stormy clouds, all twisting and roiling towards a point of black directly above. He was standing under the old tree in the park, but unlike its counterpart, this one was made of silver light and seemed more solid, more real than his surroundings.

For a moment he thought he saw a womans face in the bark and feathers amongst the branches, but it was gone when he looked again.

There was no-one in sight, so he began to walk back home, as he neared the building, he saw a strange almost weblike structure covering the building. A few sections were like a blood red crystal, pure and clean, filled with fire. The rest looked rotten and just... wrong. The only word that seemed to fit was cancerous.

Entering the kitchen, he could see his aunt with her hand raised, the book with its cracked gem ready to descend upon his flesh. Dudley watched it all with glee in his eyes, hungry for Harry's pain and suffering.

They seemed frozen in the moment, almost like they were stuck in ice or amber.

From outside he saw motion, taking a careful look, he rubbed his eyes at the strangest thing he had ever seen or dreamed of.

Just beyond the red web, a giant of a woman stood in the middle of the garden as if waiting for something. She had six arms, pale blue skin and her hair was made of green fire. Ornate and strange armour covered her flesh, each hand held a wickedly serrated scimitar.

Harry stepped through the backdoor and the webbing to stand before the giantess, who, with a fiery eyebrow raised, knelt down and slouched so her head was as close as she could get it to the standing boy and still she towered over him.

With a voice like a song, so different to what he expected, "You are not Hadarian, yet I sense his essence within you."

"Um, my name is..."

Harry's response was stopped by a gentle finger on his lips. "Hush, little one. Names have power, especially amongst my kind. I had thought myself lost to the Nether, shattered and forgotten for my crimes of rebellion. You have summoned me, but we do not have a Pact. No ritual of binding, no sacrifice." She looked around, "but we are in the mists, so perhaps you did make a sacrifice after all, just a foolish one. Unless... You should have faded and moved on, it is perhaps possible you bear an immortal soul."

"I read your name in his Journal, he called you a friend. I don't know why I did it, I just... I needed help and your name came to mind. So I spoke it."

She nodded and straightened up, "Show me." With a large step forward, she turned to fiery mist and reformed at the height of a human woman. The armour became a long dress and the headdress became a circlet, her hair moved like human hair and fell around her shoulders, yet retained the colours of green flame.

Offering her hand to the boy, she smiled, "Come child, show me where your flesh remains, I shall teach you how to restore yourself. If this fails, then I shall guide you to your next life."

Taking her hand with no small amount of awe, he smiled at her before they passed through the red web and entered the House.

Seeing the boys body slumped and broken upon the ground as the horselike woman raised her Masters Journal to strike once more, Dalia snarled in anger, her presence filling the room. Whirling around to face the boy, she knelt and closed her eyes for a moment to rein in her emotions.

"I have an offer little one. I shall bind myself into your service, in exchange I shall feed upon your soul for the length of your existance. Upon your passing I shall consume what remains. I shall use you as an anchor to remain within this world. My strength shall be yours. My Court shall be yours. My Wrath shall be yours. I shall avenge your life should it be needed. Teach and guide you should you desire. You shall be a Warlock of power and standing above all others and I shall aid you in completing your goals." She made sure she made eye contact with the boy. "To deny me, you need only say no, to accept, you must give me your true name and acceptance. Normally it should be you doing the Binding of my Essence to your own, but we can correct that later."

Harry looked at her and then at his family. With emerald green eyes filled with an innocence untainted by the evil in this house, he asked a question who's effects would ripple across the wizarding world.

"If I accept, will you be my Mummy?"

00000

Albus Dumbledore arrived at Arabella Figgs garden to find the squib wringing her hands in worry and fear.

Striding towards her front door, a flick of his wand transfigured his robes to a much more appropriate suit. "Report."

Arabella nodded as she hurried beside him. "I was talking to Mrs Naylor at number 9 about the latest litter born when I heard screams coming from number 4. They were horrible, I've never heard their like before, worse than a crucio." Ignoring his raised eyebrow at that, she continued. "I hurried to help whilst Mrs Naylor called the police. The doors were locked and the windows sealed, the glass showed only darkness within. I tried the letterbox but it wouldn't open. It was acting like a colloportus, so I went around the side to the back garden. There was no-one there, and the windows were all as dark as the front. I saw a large body hit the glass but it didn't even wobble. It was Dudley, the cousin, he saw me and banged at the glass, I think he was screaming for help, but a large blue hand grabbed him and pulled him back into the darkness. I broke the talisman then to signal you and checked the keystone for the wards, the markings were all fine and they were glowing at the right colour, so I ran back to report on your arrival."

Dumbledore nodded at the information, "Anything else? Anything out of place in the last few days? Anyone new in the area? Strange events, sensations, smells?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary at all."

"The boy?"

"I haven't seen him at all today, I can ask around if you want?"

Dumbledore checked his pocketwatch and winced. "No. Go and pack your belongings, we will need to move him to a secure location for a while, he'll likely need a familiar face. He's alive and in the house."

Arabella nodded and ran back to begin packing.

Albus frowned at the policemen trying to break in, an ambulance waited nearby and a fire engine would soon arrive in an effort to assist. With a twist and a small crack of air, he appeared in the back garden, swiftly a minor muggle repelling ward sprang into being to give him privacy as he inspected the back of the house.

Pouring excessive power into the spell, an Alohamora made the back door spring open, coming off its hinges as it did so. The darkness swiftly faded and he transfigured the glass of the house to match the effect from before. Stepping inside, he stopped at the sight of Petunia Dursley and her son. A large pool of blood had been shaped into a strange ritual circle, the fat boy was pinned to the table, barbeque forks through his hands into the wood, his internal organs had been spread across the table before him, some had been forced into his mouth. Petunia was pinned to the roof by kitchen knives, her blood slowly dripping from her wounds. Using the tip of his wand, he moved her hair and saw that her eyes had been burned from their sockets, from the inside out.

Blinking in shock and horror at the sight, he looked around for any sign of his charge. A Homenum Revelio told him nothing, no living humans remained within these walls. Checking his watch once more, he saw that the boy was travelling. Swiftly he strode around the house, checking each room to make sure, but finding nothing. Frowning at something being wrong with the picture he was seeing within the house, his focus was broken by the cracks of the Obliviators arriving. They had obviously detected his magic here, come to investigate and seen the muggles. Frowning, he apparated away rather than be seen at the crime scene, resolving to acquire the official report and search for the boy immediately. He was either in the clutches of his enemies or had run away to escape. Either way, he needed to be rescued.

00000

AN:

Inspired by The Stormreaver by Faykan, I pondered the concept of a Warlock called Harry Potter, then I slept and had a very weird dream which I wrote sections of down. I forgot about it for a few weeks and then found my notes, hammered this out from them as a basic start and I've left it to stew for now.