"Wait, wait… What exactly do you mean with 'World Tree'?"

Shandris rolled her eyes "Again, they are trees directly connected to the Emerald Dream- "

"The weird, greenish, wild dimension" he nodded, mostly to himself.

She ignored him "- and blessed by the Aspects. Nordrassil was the original World Tree, through it we Night Elves gained immortality…" her expression turned dejected "It… was heavily damaged during battle against Archimonde… We paid an enormous price to defeat our enemy…"

"But then this… Farnal? planted several other trees, trying to regain your immortality, right?"

It took a lot out of her to not laugh at the mangling of the archdruid's name still, he was technically the Archdruid of Darnassus, so she felt obliged to correct him "Archdruid Fandral Staghelm indeed convinced other druids to plant the seeds to what now is Teldrassil and Vordrassil, the first became home to us Night Elves, the later was planted in Northrend millennia ago, sadly it had to be felled for it became corrupted."

Okay… those were not encouraging news. He could only think of one being that could, in theory, corrupt something as massive as a World Tree, problem being, he was pretty certain It was sealed somewhere in the south, so either It was way more powerful than expected or there was another one of them, in the north.

"Right… and you say that your current home Tree is still missing some of these Aspects' blessings…"

"Nordrassil was blessed by all five Aspects... after the betrayal of Deathwing and Malygos' fall to insanity, however… Only Ysera and Alexstraza have blessed Teldrassil so far…"

And wasn't that a shocker… Apparently dragons were not only one of the apex predators on this world, they were also its guardians, created from a massive proto-dragon(1) by the Titans (he made a mental note to ask about them later), so not only were they sentient, they were old and much more powerful than expected.

And it seems that most of them were either hostile or indifferent to mortal woes…

Not cool.

"And whom of them have what powers?"

Because, of course they couldn't only be strong-ass quasi-immortal flying lizards.

No, they held a certain degree of power over several of Azeroth's primordial forces. From something concrete as (ironically) Magic or Earth to something as vague as Life.

Shandris let out a long-suffering sigh "You know what? I'll have one of the sentinels gather a dossier on the mayor world events up to the third war."

"That… that would actually be really helpful… I've breaking my back for the past month trying to gather any information I could…"

Shandris stared at the mage, a suspicion that started seeping into her since they started their 'conversation' all but confirmed. "You are not from Azeroth, are you?"

Because over the past couple of hours Shandris noticed just how weird the information the mage possessed was. On one hand he knew next to nothing about Azeroth's history. At all. And she couldn't just blame it on a (uncommon but not unheard of) single-minded obsession that some mages fell into, forgetting or dismissing pretty much anything else but their research.

No, the mage in front of her was aware, mostly due to hearsay, of the most recent events and relevant events.

And yet… and yet some of the questions he asked her were so detailed that they hinted to a much deeper well of knowledge (and a really robust network of informant and/or spies).

It was vexing and infuriating at the same time.

A wan smile creeped up in the mage's face "No… I'm not…"

'Wait, what?' She thought.

"Wait, what?"

Even if she had her suspicions, she still was not expecting such a straightforward answer.

Azeroth had a bad history with extra-planetary beings. The Night Elves, specifically, had a huge grudge with most (if not all) of the beings that came into Azeroth from another planet/plane of existence.

That the second-to-last incursion into the planet was made possible thanks to a human mage (Dark titan possession notwithstanding) did little to ease the concerns of the Sentinel General.

"It wasn't really planned, I-"

The mage's explanation was cut short as an undead chose that moment to barge into the tent, he let out a snort of disdain as his lifeless eye focused on the Elf.

"The Dark Lady demands that you-"

Shandris was just about to berate the rude Forsaken, not only did he came into the tent, unannounced (she didn't miss the air of arrogance and contempt that he brought with him), he also interrupted a critical piece of the mage's story.

One moment she was going to ask demand the undead to leave the missive she saw clutched in his hand (no doubt the reason for his abrupt presence), the next she watched with curiosity, one of her delicately huge brows raised, as the Forsaken's jaw literally fell to the floor in what she surmised was shock. His only eye wide open.

In front of her the mage started shifting in his seat (hastily conjured by the mage after his 'introduction'), nervously.

'Oh, bollocks…'

The undead started producing an unintelligible garble of sounds until he realized his newly acquired speech impediment, quickly dropping onto both his knees and reattaching the missing part of his mouth back in.

"Master-" The undead started, much to the chagrin of the mage and the surprise of the Elf.

"Do not call me that. Just say your piece and leave." It came, unmistakably as an order, from the mage's mouth. It was the first time in the (albeit short) time interacting with him that Shandris saw the mage being that serious. 'Or aggressive...'

In no time the undead messenger stood up, his shaky hand presenting the mage with the missive, protocols and/or mission parameters quickly forgotten "The Dark Lady is…" a glare made the undead lose the small amount of bravado he had regained "asking for the presence of the Elf and the mage. She will be expecting them in the Imperial Chamber."

Taking the missive, the mage waved a hand dismissively. The undead, however, still had something else to say.

"Mast… My Lord, I-"

"Leave."

To the mage's surprise, the undead seemed to blend into the shadows, no doubt a form of concealment, before hastily retreating with unnatural speed.

"Rogues." Shandris spat, not that she had anything against them, indeed many an elf choose to become one, their heightened senses and natural grace more than compatible with that particular profession.

Still, there was a particular mindset one needed to truly excel at it. Sure, there are those that became thieves because of necessity, not to say that all rogues were thieves, just that their skill-set was tailored towards that line of work.

There were those that delved in acts of a more questionable morale…

Like assassins.

There was one, much more important, bit that she needed to address though.

"What was that?"

She hoped she did not need to specify what she was referring to, It proved her right as she saw how he visibly deflated, his gaze lingering on the solitary cloak before going back to the message in his hand.

"… later..." Was his only reply, much to her ire.

Taking recent events in consideration, she was honestly wondering if beating the annoying mage would sour the Forsaken-Night Elvish relationship further…

The trek between the Keep and the capital city of the former Kingdom of Lordaeron proved to be relatively hassle-free.

Considering they were being summoned (because no matter how cowed the undead rogue was the night before, they were clearly being ordered and were expected to comply if only for diplomacy's sake) to the Forsaken capital city by the Forsaken Leader no less, one would've be forgiven to expect the unlikely duo to take the fastest route AKA a somewhat uncomfortable ride atop a Vampire Bat (only possible thanks to the missive as the local Bat Handler seemed fiercely protective of the beasts and inconspicuously dangerous).

Both of them refused adamantly to that idea, however.

For the elf it was both because of a sense of pride (the Hippogryphs were an integral part of Night Elf culture, serving not only as mounts but as lifelong companions), not to mention Jai'alator(2) would have felt betrayed were she to use a measly bat as a mount. Unfortunately for her, the noble Hippogryph was on an extended leave on Darnassus, recovering from a nasty altercation with some Naga.

On the other hand, the mage was just wary of his interactions with the undead. He certainly didn't want a repeat of the other day's altercation.

He wasn't even sure if he would have an effect on the winged mammals (being cared for and reared by the Undead would have made them more sensitive towards him, cloak or not, he theorized).

While the idea of flying on the native fauna's back was truly appealing to him, he figured he would have plenty of time and opportunities to do so.

His self-imposed quest would see him all over the place anyway.

They were not without options, thankfully. As the majority of the Sentinel Army, Shandris also possessed a nightsaber(3) mount, the loyal feline being both big and sturdy enough to transport two individuals across the land.

It wasn't as if they were too far from the capital, either. As he learned, Silverpine Forest and Tirisfal Glades were adjacent zones (and wasn't it nice to actually know the names of the places he was in, referring to them as gloomy forest or not-so-gloomy forest was bound to cause confusion sooner rather than later).

It still gave them a few minutes to resume the other day's conversation.

"If you are not from Azeroth then, what's your purpose here?" The question came out with a bit more accusation than she probably intended, fortunately he couldn't see the way her brows furrowed as he was saddled behind her.

He chuckled "Saving the world, I guess…"

'Huh?' "Whatever you mean?"

He took his time to answer "This world… Azeroth… I have only been here for a month or so and I can count no less than four world-ending threats so far, that's saying nothing about all the minor threats that could develop into something way worse in the right circumstances… I even made a list!"

He produced said list from his robes, giving it to the sentinel.

Centuries of riding (and the trust she had on her mount) made it easy for Shandris to read without worries of falling off or deviating from their course. She was curious to see how much the mage knew.

'Let's see…'

'Demons… Hard to argue against that' she shuddered when she remembered the first demonic incursion into the world.

'Lovecraftian(?) beings? What does that even means?' She promptly asked her question.

"What does… Oh! Sorry, Lovecraftian horror is a literary genre from my planet, it refers to incomprehensible cosmic beings, madness-inducing forbidden knowledge and other stuff like that."

That, whilst strangely informative, still left her with questions that the mage felt compelled to answer.

"I have been using several different methods to gather information, one of my world's techniques, Scrying, allows me to look at things, no matter the distance. Thing is, usually you'll have to be very purposeful when using it, otherwise it'll show up random places and people (which is kind of good in my situation)… My last Scrying attempt started showing images of an insectoid(?) swarm on desert-covered ruins, then flesh-like tunnels and finally this weird… eye thing? I don't really know how to describe it other than It is something wrong and powerful."

'Dang that sounds like Ahn'Qiraj…' Memories of the War of Shifting Sands flashed into her mind 'we never made it past the temple gates, just barely containing the horde behind the Scarab Wall… if there's something else beyond that(4)…' She repressed a shudder at that thought.

But the mage wasn't quite finished "From what you told me about the World Trees, the one that became corrupted… I fear there's another one of them far in the north… So that's at least 2 beings of unspecified power out there."

'That means… could there be something else behind the nightmare? Dammit! Shan'do must be informed of this.'

Mood dampened by the revelation, Shandris read the last two items on the list.

'Undead… I wonder if he's considering the Forsaken amongst them too… And he still needs to explain what happened in the tent…'

Reaching the last item, Shandris had to do a double take.

After demons, living dead and nondescript cosmic beings on the mage's Imminent threat to the World list, she imagined the last one would be something along the lines of Rogue Elemental Lords or even the Black Dragonflight. She was not expecting for it to be a word that seemed out of place with the others.

'Goblins?'

She must have been seriously surprised by it because, apparently, she voiced her doubts out loud, something she noticed immediately.

All her senses flared up in an instant, her flight or fight instincts screaming at her.

Gone was the carefree attitude of her companion, even without looking back she could feel the untold amounts of rage the mage was feeling at that very moment and, from the growl her mount produced, it wasn't something only she felt.

Memories of her first experience with the Burning Legion flashed through her mind, the razing of the Ara-Hinam and the death of her childhood friend.

It only lasted for a few seconds before, perhaps even more concerning, it vanished as if it never happened in the first place.

She understood two things about his companion. He was dangerous and he hated Goblins.

"There were Goblins where I'm from… Greedy, traitorous little bastards that would much rather sell their own sons and daughters than lose their wealth" He said in a very cutting tone "my people foolishly entrusted our whole economy in their hands. And yet it wasn't enough for them."

'Never enough.'

They soon reached the border between the two zones, several banners proudly displaying the Forsaken's crest(5) along the way. Fortunately for them they were expected, as the only reaction they got from the undead lookouts were snide looks or hateful glares.

The only reaction from the mage was to hug his cloak closer to his person.

The throne room Imperial Chamber looked… underwhelming.

One could still see the grandeur it held in years past, the banners that hung there still had some color from their glory-days but…

It just looked decrepit. It obviously hadn't seen much more than the random passer-by in many, many years.

Which made their quasi-impromptu meeting there that much more weirder than it should have.

Oh, he knew about the Undercity, a complex series of chambers and tunnels underneath the former capital, now actual capital to the Forsaken.

Surely the Dark Lady had her own version of a throne room to receive what amounted to a diplomatic envoy, didn't she?

And her guards… Dark Rangers she called them, he was baffled at how they managed to remain so… lifelike in their undeath. At a simple glance one could positively identify them as Elves, they still had that preternatural beauty that characterized their former(?) race.

He saw Shandris stiffen for a fraction of a second when they first saw them. There was no doubt that undeath (and necromancy in general) is a touchy subject for the Elves.

The Dark Lady, Sylvanas, went even beyond that. Had he not been sure there were no Veela on Azeroth, he might have thought her one. Not only was she seated upon the throne with a commanding air, whenever she spoke it was as if she had two voices instead of one, only adding to her unnatural appeal.

Introductions went… well. Both Elvish women had heard of each other (perks of being really high in their respective race's hierarchy) but it was the first time they met face-to-face.

Personally, Shandris had no personal animosity against Sylvanas, other than being on opposite factions and the Banshee Queen being undead. Not even her being a former High Elf was worth mentioning (contrary to popular belief, most Night Elves saw the Highborne exile from their lands as regrettable but necessary).

For her part, Sylvanas respected the Sentinel General, the role she played not only during the Third War, but also during the War of the Ancients, as a child no less!. Not to mention the millennia of experience the Night Elf had over her(6).

Yet they sat at opposite sides of a conflict that had no end in sight.

It was a big gamble, Sylvanas could admit to herself. The glaring point was that Worgen attacks on her people had been steadily on the rise. Even if her subjects (for none could deny that she was a Queen to the other Forsaken) couldn't get cursed by them, the mindless rage with which they attacked meant that anyone could be taken down in a moment of carelessness.

She had already lost one Dark Ranger too many to those beasts.

Knowing the curse had druidic origins (and that took a surprisingly small amount of time to figure out) led her to seek out the Cenarion Circle, whose origins were, ironically, to combat the very threat she was now facing.

That led to a contingent of Night Elves Sentinels being dispatched to escort the few druids the Circle 'graciously' sent out.

To this day she was hearing complaints, mainly from Grand Apothecary Putress. As genius as he may be, he was a bit too zealous in the task he was entrusted with, trying to solve any and all problems with new and more dangerous iterations of the Plague (and, while designing a plague capable of infecting only Worgen was, theoretically, possible, she knew the Putress and dreaded the consequences of his testing so close to home).

But then, just as it seemed that the druid's help would be for naught a mage appeared and, with but an elixir, managed to solve nearly all her current problems.

She was both intrigued and angry.

The mage was an unknown, her spies in both Dalaran and Stormwind reported nothing about him. In fact, it's as if the mage didn't exist at all, no name, no friends, no family, nothing.

And that very mage requested a meeting.

And now he was in front of her, accompanied by Shandris Feathermoon, the Sentinel General of all people.

She assessed him and found absolutely nothing.

His face was a stone cold mask, if he was nervous at being surrounded by the best of her elite forces, he never showed it. His gaze firmly on her, unlike Shandris, whose eyes darted around every now and then, looking for threats, calculating.

She could also feel… something emanating from him, powerful but somehow muted, restrained but seeping through whatever cracks it could find.

In all honesty, it reminded her of Arthas when he invaded Quel'Thalas.

Before she could delve more in her (admittedly dark) thoughts, the mage deemed it was time to state his purpose.

"My lady" he offered a polite, if brief, bow of the head "thanks for agreeing to this meeting" Sylvanas huffed inwardly, according to the reports she got, the mage demanded the meeting before disappearing. He should be thankful she was curious for she had people killed for much less. "there are grave matters I need to discuss with you, matters that concern the entirety of the Forsaken-"

"And what does a mortal mage cares about the unliving" She cut the mage abruptly, her gaze narrowing, the blood-red eyes shining dangerously.

She had the right to be skeptical, over the years she and the Forsaken had been the target of the scorn and distrust from the rest of the living inhabitants of Azeroth, even within the Horde (bless Hamuul Runetotem and his bovine hearth for his compassion) they were treated with suspicion.

At best.

Life(?) experience told her not to expect anything from anyone without a cost, oftentimes too heavy to pay.

He, however, was undaunted by the interruption "My interests are merely to keep Azeroth safe" he sighed, knowing his next words could be taken badly "the Undead are currently one of the biggest threats the world has to face. Their existence intrinsically bound to the one that raised them" he held a hand up, stopping the rebuttal that the Forsaken leader wanted to make (and infuriating her greatly in the process) his voice demanding attention "Make no mistake, Dark Lady, all undead are slaves to the will of a necromancer, even if they manage to regain 'free will', their thoughts and ideals would be irrevocably changed to better enforce their master's will."

Silence reigned in the chamber, one could almost feel the barely concealed anger radiating from Sylvanas. Shandris became nervous. Angering the Dark Lady was ill advised in the best of days, there, in the middle of Forsaken territory, surrounded by their elite forces?

Suddenly her earlier thoughts of beating the mage became more appealing.

And yet the mage hammered on, oblivious to the distress of his elvish companion.

"I have no doubt you have experienced it, my Lady. Plans and avenues that you would have felt revolted for even considering when in life have now become feasible. You have felt it, haven't you? Resentment, if not outright hate towards the living, even your allies."

"Our hate is towards the Lich King" Sylvanas said in a clipped tone "Our wrath is towards the enemy that killed our families and friends, our scorn is towards those that sat still whilst our homes were razed and burned. That very hate gave us the strength to break our chains."

The chamber seemed to become a couple of degrees colder.

"How dare you! How dare you dismiss our hate, our suffering, our-"

She couldn't finish whatever she wanted to say, for at that very moment the mage took his cloak off.

The effect was instantaneous, the power emanating from the mage she could barely feel earlier now on full display. An aura that demanded obedience, subservience, submission.

Whilst the rest of the Forsaken knelt down, Sylvanas had a genuinely shocked expression. "Mast-" she started to whisper before ruthlessly smothering down that impulse, her anger renewed with a passion.

"Who. Are. You." She ground out, her hands painfully clenching her bow.

Shandris stood there, shocked at what she was witnessing. Her thoughts echoing those of the Dark Lady

'What are you?'

1 From what I could find, the Aspects themselves propagated that rumor to prevent another Galakrond from emerging.

2"Noble Blade of Elune" is Shandris' personal Hippogryph: "a large male hippogryph with a plumage more striking than other hippogryphs, darker and more dramatic feathers, as well as crimson lines across the ebony wings and slight turquoise markings on the upper edges. Crimson feathers also lined the otherwise blue-black head "

3 I'm picturing her with a Black Nightsaber of undisclosed name (any and all suggestions will be appreciated)

4 I'm working with the idea that almost none of Azeroth's inhabitants know of the Old Gods, obviously you have people out there that have the knowledge or that have interacted directly with them (see the Twilight Cult) but, in all, the average azerothian remain blissfully ignorant of them.

5 It could either be the Icon of Torment or some variations of it (most likely the Icon without the raven-shaped shield on a purple background.

6 From what I could find, Sylvanas is over 2800 years of age at the time of Classic WoW, whereas Shandris must be at least 10k years old, she was an adolescent during WotA.

A/N:

Another chapter done! Thanks so much for reading!

Know that I care about your comments and critiques, I'll admit the last chapter felt hasty, in retrospect, it should've been added as the final part of the first chapter, however I wrote it after the fact and decided to publish it on it's own. I apologize if I subverted some of your expectations with it, and I'll make an effort to ensure no such thing happens again.

I'm still trying to set up a comfortable pace for the story, there's a lot of things I want to focus on but I know if I do, the story will barely see any progress.

I have plans to include several instances (dungeons and raids) in the story, maybe glossing over some of the minor fights (action scenes are not my forte right now), but most of them will definitely be relevant for the main story (there's a myriad of villains, some of them with really interesting lore)

A/N2:

Just to point out something that I just realized.

So far I have no plans to mess with the whole Master of Death stuff as it's traditionally depicted in fanfiction.

Harry does have a weird relationship with Death in general, that will probably be touched upon in the future, but his powers do not derive from it.

Replying to the previous chapter's reviews:

frankieu: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it! Yeah, everyone has bad days and no one is immune to a random bout of clumsiness :b

Creativenameok: Quite honestly, I wasn't either, most of my writing is done whenever an idea pops into my head, sometimes I write 1-2k words and end up scrapping them, sometimes they just fit.

ImaginativeFury: Sadly it'll be Harry (or at least my interpretation of him), different from canon Harry so... :s

Separ: It's definitely Harry, or some version of him, his backstory will be touched upon bit by bit in future chapters, don't expect to see anything resembling canon Harry tho.

plums: I don't know if I'd call it a council of war, however I see your point. I don't want to take from Harry the fact that, for all the power he may have, he's still a human, one that's prone to make mistakes, to overanalyze and misinterpret situations, a faulty person. I believe that, when his backstory is fully explained, most of his quirks will end up making sense. The pacing of the story has already been addressed on the A/N

Nogitsune96: Not exactly the feeling I was trying to convey, but I see where it's coming from. Hopefully in future chapters your opinion of him will change. :D

kessu91: Sorry about that, that issue has been addressed on this chapter's A/N

Akakiru: I didn't mean to imply that you disliked them, was just pointing out that, even if inspired, this story will (hopefully) take a completely different route.

Kairan1979: Cursed might be the wrong term for it. There's definitely something going on with the cloak and Death in general.

Seraph64: I don't believe he's incompetent at all, just bad with social situations and, in spite of him usually thinking things through, every now and then he finds himself in compromising situations, sometimes of his own doing.