A/N
Hi everyone! Wow, people didn't like Sirius dying like that? Well, that's a shame but he didn't have a place in my story except to give Harry motivation. I thought I might as well make it… memorable.
I started this update months ago. In fact, I had part of it as leftover when I published the first chapter. Then I just added to it over the last four or five months a little bit at a time. Seeing as it is now in the new year and the chapter is finished, I thought I would just publish it for you anyway as another New Years present to you.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new update. If you want to read more of my stories and get updates early, head to my pat-re-on for four chapters early on Plan for the Galaxy, and vote monthly on which side story want me to update next. It's Bored Peasant's Written Works.
On with the story!
…
CHAPTER 2 – A NEW LAND
The light died down and Harry found himself in another castle, this one made of white stone, capped with blue-tiled roofs. He couldn't see more than a few seconds before he was dragged into a building that would have made Hermione salivate just by thinking of it.
There were books in shelves that went from floor to ceiling. Bookcases were arranged every few feet. While he still couldn't move his head, he was able to see a second story in his range of vision that also had wall to ceiling bookshelves. It was almost as if he had fallen through the veiled archway, or Lith or whatever it was called here, landed in his own personal nightmare and then landed in Hermione's version of paradise. The constant changes were causing his mind to spin as he tried to make sense of it all. All he wanted to do was rage at the ones that had killed Sirius but with the spell on him still active he couldn't even move a muscle.
The green-skinned person dragged him over to a staircase, then mutter "Rise." Harry felt himself lifted a few inches off the ground and the creature grabbed his arm and pulled him up the staircase. He was then dragged along a walkway until they reached a door.
A green hand reached over his frozen shoulder and knocked twice. A muffled voice responded and the door open on its own, granting them entry. Harry found himself placed on a large leather chair, the type that he would expect to find in a nobleman's house in England, right before the desk. Sitting across from him was an old man, wearing a hooded purple robe with gold trim that would have made dumbledore jealous.
The old man had softly glowing yellow eyes, a trimmed white beard, and tanned skin. Harry couldn't tell how old the man was, his skin was surprisingly unwrinkled, but the hair and beard were definite signs of old age.
More than that, there was a feeling of calm power that the man exuded, the same as that other man Agar or whatever he was called, had given off at the Lith. This man's power felt far less oppressive and lesser than Agar's.
After a moment though, the loss of Sirius flashed through his mind and he decided he didn't care.
"Greetings, young Wizard," the old man in front of him spoke up in a strong voice. "I apologise for the treatment you received from Halon but, knowing him, he was trying to get you out of Brindamoor castle as quickly and easily as possible for your own protection."
The old man gestured off to the side to where the green skinned man that had captured Harry was obviously standing, out of Harry's view.
"As for myself," the old man continued, "I am Sarakin, Grand Mage of the Wizard's Order of Magic and Head Wizard of Roland's alliance. As for where you are, this is the castle of Kalindra, in south-eastern Enroth."
Those names meant nothing to Harry but clearly they were supposed to mean something.
The old man, Sarakin chuckled slightly. "I can see from your eyes that you don't know what that means," he said. "Don't worry, I will explain it all to you soon. But first, I am going to release you from the spells holding you." Sarakin's face hardened slightly for a moment and Harry could feel the power of the man's magic thicken for a moment. "I would advise that you don't overreact when you are free."
If Harry could have gulped, he would have. At least being unable to move as he was, he didn't flinch when Sarakin pointed a hand at him.
"Dispel," the old wizard intoned.
Immediately, the magic holding Harry still disappeared, just as instantly as if it was a finite. He dropped more comfortably in his chair but didn't dare move, though he couldn't help glaring at the old man.
Sarakin sat back in his chair slightly and looked at Harry for a long moment.
"I am sorry," Sarakin said after a long pause.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Sorry for what?" he demanded. He could feel his anger bubbling over at these people who had kidnapped him and killed Sirius.
"I am sorry that we were unable to save your friend," Sarakin said heavily. "We were only aware that there was a Wizard at Brindamoor thanks to great risk from our scryers. Halon was sent to investigate but he was unable to get the man to safety. As it is, we were extremely fortunate that we discovered you with our scrying before Archibald's forces were able to. Halon wasn't able to get your friend, but he was fortunate enough to find you and bring you to safety."
"His name was Sirius," Harry growled. "He was my godfather."
The term didn't see to mean much to Sarakin, who merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. "God… father? I must confess that this word is unknown to me."
"It means that he was supposed to care for me when my parents died," Harry spat. "Until you killed him."
Surprisingly, the old Wizard didn't get angry. It made Harry want to punch the serene look right off the old man's face.
"Yes," Sarakin mused. "I suppose to someone that hasn't been taught the truth then it would seem like we are one and the same. But surely, even you know that just because one magic user is likely to commit acts of violence in the name of selfishness and evil, doesn't mean that another is?"
Harry knew the man was right but mulishly kept his silence.
The old man just shook his head. "My scrying was able to determine that your… godfather, appeared through the Forbidden Liths in the far northwest a little more than a month ago. Unfortunately for him, while he was found initially by a roving party of Knights, he was determined to find a way to get back and refused their aid, as the Liths had deactivated. Before the Liths had reactivated he was captured by scouts from Brindamoor and taken prisoner."
He gestured to Halon again, and this time Harry could look over and see the fully green-skinned hairless man. He was a little put off by the glowing red-and-yellow eyes. It reminded him too much of Voldemort's red eyes.
The green man, Halon, gave a firm nod and bared his sharp teeth at Harry. He did his best not to flinch, but knew he was only partially successful.
"Yes," Sarakin said, a slightly amused lilt in his voice. "Halon's appearance can be a little disconcerting to begin with. Some people mistake him for a goblin. The truth is his father was a genie. But you will be hard-pressed to find a more loyal Wizard anywhere."
Harry turned back to the old man as he continued. "Halon's mission was to find Sirius and bring him to safety. Unfortunately, due to Agar and several other Warlocks, he was unable to infiltrate the dungeons. When I saw you in my scrying, I told him to make sure you got to safety. And he did so. "
"And Sirius died," Harry said, his tone accusatory.
"And if Halon had tried to take on Agar, then there would be three dead Wizards, not just one," Sarakin said reprovingly. "It feels like one of the worst things in the world, using such bloody maths that way, but the unfortunate fact is that sometimes you have to be aware of what you can do and what your limits, or those of your companions, are."
Harry grit his teeth at that. He mentally could understand that point of view but at the moment his rage was not letting him accept that there was nothing that could have been done. He had been told that it was impossible so many times and he had still managed to succeed. First with Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone, then with the Chamber of Secrets, saving Sirius from the Dementors and the Triwizard Tournament. Every impossible thing he had come up against he had been able to win against. Why not this?
"I can see from your face that you don't agree with me," Sarakin mused. "Very well, what would your plan have been?"
The question broke through Harry's fury for a moment. "What?"
"You believe that we didn't act hard enough to save your godfather from Agar," Sarakin explained. "Halon told me that when he caught you, you were about to go down and get him. Tell me, what was your plan for doing so?"
Harry thought furiously but his mind was coming up blank. Hermione made the plans and Harry just acted when they failed.
"You were alone," the old Wizard continued, heedless of Harry's anger. "In a castle filled with Warlocks, creatures that could fly under the command of the Warlocks, such as gargoyles, griffins and dragons, which would prevent your escape should you have actually managed to free Sirius. You were bereft of your means of performing magic, and you needed to act in the few seconds you had available to both distract them above the roar of the crowd and cover the distance between you and the executioner before his axe fell, through the gathered crowd of monsters and people. You would have had to face magic users that were still capable of using magic that you have no way to counter. And assuming that you managed to achieve the miracle of getting to the platform, you then needed to escape with a man that had been tortured for a month and would not have been in a position to run with you, and he was also bereft of your means of using magic. So, I ask again, young Wizard, what was your plan?"
"I don't know!" Harry roared, hating every logical word that had spewed forth out of the old man's mouth. "I don't know what I would have done! I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to get Sirius and get free!"
Sarakin peered at him imperiously. "Then you are a fool," he replied bluntly. "And if Halon hadn't rescued you, you would have been a dead fool."
Harry flinched. "It's worked for me before," he replied stubbornly.
"Being impulsive only works against those that aren't ready for it," Sarakin countered. "Those that suffer arrogance leave themselves open to being defeated by the impulsive. But a Warlock of Agar's capabilities would have seen you coming and stopped you before you had come within ten paces of the stage, and you don't have the means to stop him, escape him or kill him."
The anger died down but didn't fully dissipate in the face of the cold analysis that Harry received, knowing that Sarakin was right.
He hated it.
The old man let him stew on that for a long minute before he spoke again.
"I'm not unempathetic to your situation, young Wizard," the old man sighed. "I myself have lost far more people over the course of my life than I would ever wish on anyone. Petty warlords, bandits, rebelling Heroes and their armies; life has a habit of showing you something great and then taking it away from you when you least want it. But there will be times when you need to face reality. You can hate it, rage against it, cause untold suffering on the innocent because of it, but that doesn't change the reality. And while you are here, alone and without your means of performing magic or even the one person from your world who came here too, and even worse had to watch that person come to their untimely end, the people that did it were just too strong for you to take on at this time."
Harry's anger still simmered away softly, but he could at least see that the old man in front of him wasn't deliberately being harsh. He was trying to educate Harry to help him calm down and accept it. Harry wasn't ready for that but he was at least calm enough to understand
"It is unfortunate, young Wizard," the old man said as he continued staring at Harry over his linked hands, "that you find yourself in this predicament."
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, his voice rising in anger again instantly, almost shouting that the old man, feeling like he was listening to Dumbledore's half-answers.
The old man merely raised an eyebrow. "Seeing as you are under a great deal of stress, I will let your ongoing insolence be unpunished on this one occasion," he said mildly but firmly. It was a tone that Professor McGonagall would be proud of. "If you wish for answers and cooperation from me, you will never demand me, never presume to order me, nor assume that your pathetic teenage angst will be more persuasive to me than proper reasoning and manners. Is that understood?"
Harry bit off the reply, feeling mulish. He so badly wanted to force the old man in front of him to answer but while he gave off some Dumbledore vibes, he also had a steel behind him that demanded obedience in a way the headmaster didn't. He also didn't like being dismissed as just having teenage angst. It felt so condescending after watching Sirius die.
"The unfortunate situation is that you have come to Enroth when we are on the brink of war," Sarakin continued. "Our precious king, King Morglin Ironfist, died some weeks ago. He had fought and united the chaotic lands of Enroth and brought peace and stability. With his death, his sons are now poised at each other's throats. The rightful heir is Prince Roland, under whom we in this castle are allied. Unfortunately, his younger brother Prince Archibald, the man you saw ordering the execution of your godfather, is attempting to usurp his brother's rightful position and is seeking the throne for himself. He has managed to gain powerful allies, some of which you would have seen at Brindamoor.
"To further complicate your situation, the Forbidden Liths, the means by which you were brought to Enroth, lie beyond the territories of Archibald's allies. You won't be able to traverse the land with how far it is to get there, and we haven't the ability to get you there through Archibald's forces. Even now, his armies are being mustered, preparing an attack on our people. Between them, the bandits that lie on the trails there, and starving to death before you manage to get there, there is no feasible way for you to get to the Forbidden Liths in a timely manner."
Harry froze for a moment. "You mean," he swallowed, "I'm stuck here?"
Sarakin nodded, his face full of sympathy. "For the moment, that seems to be the case. And unless we manage to win, I don't know if you will be able to get back. Certainly not without a miracle or at least a great deal of training and power. Power you might have naturally, but you are certainly untrained in the martial ways or magical ways without your wand."
Harry felt his stomach clench. He was stuck in this place, wherever that was, for however long it took for him to get back to London and the Ministry. He had no idea what the others were doing and the worry for his friends pierced the haze of anger and despair that was settling over him.
"But," he stammered, "I need to get back. My friends were all fighting, and I need to help them."
The old Wizard gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere. "I hope your friends are ok. But I cannot send you back to the Forbidden Lith. It is beyond my power and abilities."
Anger and desperation warred within Harry as he looked around wildly at the green man. "But you were able to get here from there!" he shouted. "If you got me here, you can get me back!"
But the green man shook his head. "The spells don't work like that," he replied, his voice gravelly. "The spell I used was called Town Portal. It lets someone travel by magic from wherever they are to a predetermined point that magic recognises as your own castle. It won't let me travel to another location other than that one set location and it won't go to a hostile castle. You have to mark the castle with your magic to make it happen."
"But, but, that Warlock managed to teleport us from that place to the castle. By opening a blue portal thing that sucked us all in."
Again, the green man shook his head. "That is a different spell called Dimension Door," he explained. "It allows the caster to transport himself and any number of companions with him to anywhere within their proximity, as long as they know the land. The problem is that it has a limited range and is very draining of the caster's magic reserves. It uses the same amount of mana to transport one person as it does thousands. I wouldn't even get halfway back to the Liths before my magic is drained and I would be useless for days afterwards."
"Sadly," the old man cut in, "I also have the same problem. While I would be able to get much closer to Brindamoor than Halon would, I would also be next to useless magically for days afterwards and we would need to spend that entire time escaping enemies as their leaders and spy masters use their scrying spells to find us."
The helplessness turned to anger once again as Harry tried to think of a solution, but nothing came to mind. Maybe if he had Hermione here, she could have found a way, but he wasn't Hermione. She was the planner and he was the action man. All he was doing now was feeling angry because he couldn't do anything and he hated it all.
"What do I do?" he muttered to himself, clenching his hands.
"For now," the old Wizard said, "I would recommend that you learn about this land and the current situation before you make any plans of your own. You might think of an idea and walk straight into a hydra swamp without knowing anything about it."
Harry hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Information was a good idea. It might even let him think of his own plan.
Sarakin shuffled over to the bookshelf behind him and grabbed a large scroll and several books, before returning to his desk. He placed the books to one side and unfurled the scroll, revealing it to be a large map.
Sarakin gestured to the map. Harry had never been the best student, but he remembered the maps from his muggle classes in school. The land that he was looking at now was definitely not one that he remembered. It was certainly no Great Britain.
"This is Enroth," Sarakin declared. "It is a large continent that has been fought over since memory began. It is populated by many different creatures, beings and people. Over time, and especially over the last few centuries, those people and creatures have typically banded together to form different groups, or factions, based on their ideals, values and loyalties. They are all castle builders and are distinguished by the people, beings and creatures that are drawn to their factions."
Harry was frowning, looking down at the map. There was a good mix of mountains, forests, plains, snowfields and deserts visible on the surprisingly colourful map. He had no idea of the scale though. It could be the size of Britain, or the entire continent of Asia. And if the travel options were only by walking, or riding a horse, or magical means, it could be years before he gets from one end to the other.
"You keep talking about factions," Harry cut in. "How many of these factions are there and who are they?"
Sarakin gave a smile and pulled a book over from the side of his desk, flicking through it before opening to a specific page near the middle. He turned it around so that Harry could read it.
"There are generally six factions that castles will fall under," Sarakin explained, pointing it out on the pages. "We are the Wizards, caretakers of beings such as the halflings, the sentient boars, the Rocs, producers of the golems, educators of the archmagis and allies of the giants and titans. We pride ourselves on magical knowledge, knowing more spells than any other faction and experimenting to learn even more. We are more concerned with the protection of life and believe that knowing how to protect yourself physically will allow you to save your magic reserves to fight another day. Though we do focus more on defence than attack in the physical arts.
"Allied with us are the Sorceresses. They are exclusively female magic users and managers of the Sprites, and have dominion of the dwarves, the elves, the druids. They are caretakers of the unicorns and allies to the phoenixes. They focus more on increasing their magical reserves and spell diversity than boosting their magical power and it is extremely rare to see one who trains in any form of physical combat.
"Our last allies are the Knights. All you would expect of an army of traditional strictly human soldiery. They have conscripts from the peasants, and train archers, pikemen, swordsmen, cavalry and paladins. They do not traditionally have a focus on magic at all, preferring to focus on their ability to defend and weather a blow, before returning punishment. But don't be confused, every Hero in charge of an army is trained to use magic, regardless of their origins. They are just extremely limited in both reserves and power and are therefore restricted to basic spells unless they dedicate serious time and training in the magical arts. Do you understand our allies now?"
Harry gave a slow nod. He could understand now why it was that he was being called a young Wizard, by Mr Sarakin's definition. And Sorceresses are basically a society of Hermiones. Knights on the other hand, would be like the feudal system that non-magical Europe would have lived through in the Middle Ages.
That said, he wasn't sure what a titan was. It sounded important if the way that the old Wizard was talking about them. And while he had never seen a halfling, he could imagine what they were quite easily.
He also wasn't exactly sure on the difference between a mage and a Wizard. The term was used interchangeably as far as he knew. But the way that Sarakin was talking, there was definitely a difference from what he was saying. Harry guessed he would ask for clarification later.
He wished Hermione was here to go through it with him. Or for him.
"For the factions allied with Prince Archibald, we shall start with the Barbarians. They focus primarily on physical attacks, being a naturally aggressive martial people. They are made up of the goblins, orcs, ogres, trolls, cyclopes' and also have the allegiance of the wolves. As far as magic goes, they are as limited as the knights, so if you come across them, expect them to use magic mostly as a distraction to allow their troops to come close."
The forces summary made Harry blink, though he supposed if the boars were sentient then it was possible that the wolves could also be sentient. Who knew when it came to magical races?
"Then there are the Necromancers," Sarakin said, his mouth twisting distastefully. "They obviously focus on the undead, and a skilled Necromancer will be able to raise many fallen monsters after a battle to join the remainder of their own forces. Their magics allow them control over the skeletons, zombies, mummies and liches. Once they have developed properly, they can use their witchcraft to even mould dragons out of skeletons, their magics twisting them to their designs. While Necromancers primarily use magic, they do have a slight tendency towards physical martial forms, allowing them to attack without care for self-preservation. Their creatures don't require material needs, such as food, but if you cause enough damage to the physical body of an undead being, the magics holding them together would disperse, causing them to fall apart. They are dangerous foes and should be treated with the respect they require, even if they do desecrate life by their very perverted nature. As a result, they also have the allegiance of the vampires, who fight with them."
That was a deeply concerning things to Harry and he couldn't help but feel trepidation at the thought of facing a Necromancer army. But the whole thing reminded him of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He could feel instinctively that this was wrong and not something that he wanted to dabble in.
"The last faction aligned with Archibald are the Warlocks," continued Sarakin with a deep frown. "Powerful magicians, focussing most on the power they are able to place into each individual spell. They have dominion of the centaurs, minotaurs, griffins, hydras and gargoyles. But most concerningly, they have control of the dragons. And while the green dragons are manageable and the red dragons are difficult but can be fought on even grounds, the black dragons are extremely dangerous. Their only equal in single combat would be the titans, and even then, I would not guarantee a victory to the titan."
Harry considered this information for a moment, remembering that… Sirius had been fed to those griffins after he was executed. The very thought of that made his blood boil and he knew that he could no more align himself with the Warlock faction than he could become a Death Eater and follow Voldemort.
"There are some others out there," Sarakin finished up. "Those don't build castles and tend to live a nomadic life of banditry and the mercenary. They can be useful or annoying but are not aligned with any faction and tend to go with the highest bidder."
Sarakin shot a piercing stare at Harry. "The place where you were found is a Warlock castle," he continued. "It is, in fact, Prince Archibald's strongest castle, Brindamoor. If we were to take it by force, it will be a campaign of years. A campaign, might I add, that will take place either way, as Archibald has pit himself against Roland for the rule of Enroth. If you are to side with us as one of our Heroes, then it will be a long, brutal and bloody campaign that you cannot shirk from or approach half-heartedly.
"If, however, you believe that you can go over and side with Archibald, well," Sarakin spread his hands in a 'you saw for yourself' type gesture. "I highly doubt that he would believe you. The fact that you are a Wizard, even if your definition slightly differs from ours, would be enough to make him distrust you and even finding out that you came from beyond the Forbidden Liths wouldn't do anything to make him help you. And, while you might think me callous for suggesting it, I doubt that you will be willing to join the faction that so brutally executed your godfather in front of you."
Harry snarled at that reminder. Of course, he wasn't going to join the people who killed Sirius! That was like suggesting he was going to join Voldemort after killing his mum and dad!
He forced the anger from his mind to help him think more clearly. "So," he began slowly, "what you are saying is that the only way that I can go home, is if I fight in your war against Archibald so that I can get back through the 'Forbidden Liths' and get home again?" He was tired of being forced to do things like this. Why couldn't he just have an easy life?
To his surprise, Sarakin shook his head. "No that is not what I am saying," the old man denied. "You don't have to do anything. You could go sit on a farm under an apple tree, and as long as you can pay for food, you could sit this whole war out. No one will make demands of you, no one will question you, other than the usual things that a person gets asked such as, 'where are you from?' and 'why are you sitting under an apple tree?'. The war will be fought regardless of your involvement. Don't think you are so special that you are the cause of it."
Harry couldn't help feeling sheepish at that. After the last five years at Hogwarts, he had been the centre of everything bad that was going to happen. It was easy to think that everything was going to happen to him.
"However," the old Wizard continued, "if you do choose to fight, then you will be given the proper training to do so before you ever see a battlefield. You will stay here under my supervision or that of my attendants. You will learn our magic; you will learn our skills. You will learn how to wage a war against the evil forces of the world in the most efficient and effective way possible. You will learn how to lead our forces against the enemies we face, in the best and even the most ruthless ways to win. You will not need to rely on a delicate medium, like your wand, to be able to cast your magic. And should we win, by the time you return home, you will be fully prepared to face whatever destiny you have to face there. That I can promise you."
Harry hesitated at the offer. Being involved in a war was not something he was exactly keen to throw himself into, and that was even considering the recklessness he had displayed in going to the Ministry and running through the Veil. This was something even more likely to threaten his life and freedom. He couldn't help but sighing. "I just wanted to be normal," he muttered softly.
Not soft enough apparently, as Sarakin clearly heard him. The old man leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk.
"Harry," he said as if he was speaking to a particularly slow child, "'normal' people, don't have the ability to use magic like you do. 'Normal' people don't have the power to alter reality at their whim like you do. 'Normal' people don't have the power to choose their destiny like you do. 'Normal' people would look at you, your talents and abilities, your ability to choose how you live your life and change the world around them, and they would wish with every fibre of their beings to live like you do for just one day."
For some reason Harry felt his anger flare up. "So they can have someone stare at their forehead every time they meet someone?" he growled. "Or live with their parents because they weren't killed by a dark wizard trying to escape a prophecy?"
This time, Sarakin leaned forward and did something Harry didn't expect. He reached a hand out and flicked him in the middle of his forehead.
"Enough with the self-pity," Sarakin ordered firmly. "You think being 'normal' would stop either of those things happening? Do you know how many people die from illness and disease every day? Or how many people lose their lives by bandits or monsters? Or just end up disfigured, missing limbs or even ears, eyes and noses because of them? Do you think you are alone in having an unusual life or a sad history? Enroth had been a place of conflict for decades before King Morglin united the land. Do you know the sheer number of children that grew up without fathers, or mothers who have been violated? Halon himself wasn't born from a mother and father that loved each other. His mother is a victim of his father. Should he wallow in self-pity like you are so keen to?"
He paused, letting Harry think about that. It shocked Harry to think about that. He doubted that his parents would have been killed by disease, but he thought of Mad Eye Moody, who was missing a leg and an eye. He didn't have a prophecy about him. He just chose to fight dark wizards. Harry had to admit that he forgot that there were plenty of people that had suffered from Voldemort; he wasn't the only one. Susan Bones came to his mind unbidden, as she had also lost both her parents.
He couldn't help the shame and guilt that flowed through him as he also thought about the suffering of the people of Enroth and even Halon who had chosen to fight against the forces that caused his birth. He almost wished that the ground beneath him would swallow him up.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Sarakin leaned back in his chair. "As I said," he replied softly, "teenage angst is something that everyone goes through, where we often think it is us against the world, young man. The important thing is to not focus solely on yourself. Of course, you must look out for yourself and your needs, both physical and emotional. But remember that everyone around you has their own trials and their own role to play. It is merely up to them to decide what that role is and whether or not they can make the choice for themselves on whether they will play the role that life would let them fall into naturally, or carve their own path."
Harry looked up at the old Wizard hesitantly and nodded.
"Now, unfortunately, we have come to the time where you must make a choice," Sarakin said. "As I said, you will not be forced to fight our war for us. But you can choose to fight with us and we will train you to be a leader in this war, even if that is a role you never play. And by the time that the dust settles and the war is done, you will probably be looked on as a Hero, a title that you will earn. Or you can walk down those stairs and out the front door and only emerge once we have won, should that happen. Or you could try risk it all and make your way back to the Forbidden Liths on your own, hiding from every bandit, Necromancer, Barbarian and Warlock on the way, bereft of your means of magic and scrambling to find food. What will you choose to do?"
With his options laid out like that there were really only two to choose from. Harry could ignore the war and hope that the Wizards and their allies would win so that he could come in a number of years later and try get to the Liths. He wouldn't be able to use magic without his wand and would have to work with his bare hands once the pitiful few gold coins in his mokeskin pouch ran out. Or he could learn the magic of this place and be ready to return to England at the price of fighting a war.
I wouldn't be a Gryffindor if I chose to do nothing, he thought to himself sarcastically. He just wished that Ron and Hermione were here, or even Neville and Luna. "I choose to fight with you," he said out loud.
Sarakin looked satisfied. "Very well," he said. "Then you shall stay here at our Mage guild for the foreseeable future, as I and the others here do our part to instruct you. You will learn to be more than a Wizard here, young Harry. You will learn to be a leader, a warrior, a general and by the time you depart for your home, you will have earned the title of Hero."
Harry wasn't going to lie. He kind of liked the sound of actually earning that title for once.
…
A/N Please Review and Follow/Favourite as you like.
This was mostly just a break down of the forces and the bare bones story of the campaign in Heroes of Might and Magic 2, as I realise that many readers won't know it. And Harry realises that the world is not focussed on him. He doesn't need to be at the centre, he just chooses to be.
Anyway, I hope that this story draws more readers because I think it has potential. Anyway I hope you are all having a good year so far and hopefully this will be voted on for an update soon.