Well, here's a long awaited chapter! R&R, enjoy! ~F

Chapter Five

Separation and Reunion

Gul'dan lashed out with green fel flames, even as Nobu'tan threw a bolt of shadow at the Archmage, who flinched for a split second before dodging both attacks, responding with a jet of his own fire, which Gul'dan blocked with a powerful shield of necromantic energy. He grinned again at the wizard, before quickly returning to the offensive, hoping to end this bout quickly and return before the Horde left for Capital City.

The Mage however, wasn't so willing to just die that easily, and artfully wove his own spells and enchantments to protect himself, while targeting Gul'dan specifically with his own destructive magic. It was curious how the wizard all but refused to potentially harm Nobu'tan, despite the boy's clear and obvious betrayal of him and all the things he held dear. Stranger still was how the man had grown attached to the boy in less than… what, two weeks, three at the most, that Nobu'tan was in Dalaran.

Not that Gul'dan doubted that it could easily happen. Nobu'tan had an air of charisma about him that orcs distinctly lacked; one feature of his heritage that Gul'dan actually granted was a veritable strength for the boy. But this was an entirely different level of affection… or was it? Gul'dan started to pay attention to the other human more as they fought, spells washing over shields and sailing into the ground around them with enormous explosions and erupting fires.

The wizard's face was stone, when he looked at Gul'dan, but whenever the Archmage had to deal with Nobu'tan's attacks, even if they were pitiful in comparison to the magical might of the other two combatants, there was a look of pain, naturally, but also intense greed.

So that was it… this Archmage had seen what Gul'dan had all those years ago, that Nobu'tan had power to master all forms of magic given to him, absorbing it like a sponge and feeding off the magic of the world around him; terrible and wondrously different from both Gul'dan and this Archmage in the same respect. They had to draw magic to them, wrenching it from the fabric of the universe, while Nobu'tan lived it; was literally a part of the tapestry of magic from the day he was born, like a proverbial silver spoon of magic in the babe's mouth that even he, Gul'dan, had had to claw his way over the broken bodies of his foes at achieve even a fraction of.

Jabbing two fingers at the Archmage during his moment of distraction, a crimson bolt of jagged lightning launched from Gul'dan, rippling past the wizards and shredding the front of his robes, exposing the pale, pinkish skin beneath. Unfortunately unharmed, the mage staggered back, before coming to a decision, and hastily drawing an item from a pouch on his belt.

Gul'dan wasn't sure that the little stone would do, but it was practically humming with magic, and was moments from activating. With all his strength, the mage threw the stone at Nobu'tan. The boy wouldn't see the threat the way Gul'dan did. Something deep down in his very center told him that this could spell disaster for him and his apprentice. Drawing deeply from his connection to the Twisted Nether, Gul'dan focused a blast that ought to have ripped the stone out of existence into the cold dark of the void, but somehow, the unimaginable occurred.

Once the spell made contact with the stone, a dazzling blast rocked the area where they fought, sending both warlock and Archmage to the ground from the concussive force. There was the sound of air being drawn into the lungs of a dragon, and a great gust of wind whipped them around just in time to see Nobu'tan, his face frozen in surprise and fear, vanish from their sight into an open tear in the universe.

Gul'dan froze, his cold heart clenching in his chest. Had he just killed his own apprentice, a boy that he had raised and actually grown fond of like a son? Turning slowly to face the Archmage, fury and anger like nothing he had ever felt rose from within him, and pure malicious chaos started to swirl around him as he prepared to end this wizard's existence.

Moments before he fired his blast of pure chaotic energy, the wizard made several lightning fast gestures, and arcane magic took him, teleporting the wizard far from Gul'dan and the explosion of power that annihilated the place where he had crouched previously. Gul'dan roared with fury, slamming a fist into the ground. Nobu'tan was gone, likely dead in the void of the Twisted Nether, and the wizard responsible escaped.

This affront would not go unpunished; Nobu'tan would be avenged, and Gul'dan would see Dalaran burn to the ground for it. The warlock remained there for a few moments, at the last place he had ever seen his most favored apprentice, before slowly making his way back to the Horde encampment.

By the time Gul'dan returned to the camp, the rest of the Horde was already on the move, marching south from Quel'Thalas to go over the Alterac Mountains and on to Capital City. Gul'dan watched, his anger still seething at the loss of Nobu'tan. Once the last departing orc had vanished from his sight, he turned to Cho'gall, who had come from the Twilight Hammer encampment to watch as well. "Are we ready?" he demanded.

The ogre mage's heads grinned, but Cho'gall seemed disturbed by something about Gul'dan even as he responded, "Ready."

Gul'dan nodded, trying to control and harness his rage instead of letting it consume him, "Good. Tell your warriors we march at once. It is a long way back to Southshore." Looking toward the forest to the north and the distant view of the dragons still trying to attack the elven capital, "Zhulued is occupied with that elven city, and will not even notice we have gone until it is too late."

"What if he sends his dragons after us?" Cho'gall asked, and Gul'dan had to suppress a flare of anger. After all this time had the mad ogre lost his nerve? Gul'dan did not care if the full might of the Horde chased after them; he needed Sargaras' power now, more than to just burn this world. If there was some chance, any chance, that Nobu'tan survived, Gul'dan would locate him out in the void of the Nether using the demon lord's own magic if need be.

His irritation must have shown, as Cho'gall fell silent for a time, before finally nodding both heads and turning to leave, "I will see to the warriors," he promised, and went to bellow orders at his own people.

Gul'dan remained behind; know that his clan would feel the urgency in the air from the angry magic that poured off their chieftain. Vengeance would be his, in the end, Gul'dan would be certain of it.

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Kel'thuzad staggered into the Violet Citadel, carefully nursing several burns and other wounds with what remedies he knew from his time in the infirmary as a young man, but more so he was weighed down by the horror that he had, unintentionally, ended the life of a young boy that had had so much potential, and could have been so useful to Kel'Thuzad personally. It galled him that the warlock had been driven to such a rage at the loss of his apprentice, as though the orc was capable of actually caring about a human that much, and actually managed to chase away an Archmage.

But the boy was dead now, lost in the swirling void of the great beyond. Still, as Kel'Thuzad took the long winding stairs back to his chambers, himself now bereft of his personal Hearthstone to make the trip convenient, he had time to think of what solutions he could possibly make for the situation. He had learned, now more than ever, that there was magic well beyond what the Kirin Tor permitted the mages to learn, and the shadier aspects were more powerful than any led them to believe. If dark magic had banished the boy to his utter demise, could dark magic bring him back as well?

Thinking hard, Kel'Thuzad couldn't help but wonder how easy it would be to recall the boy's spirit from the dead and impart it to a new host body, like a golem or even another living vessel. It wouldn't be terribly difficult, for an Archmage at the least, to learn. Granted, such a thing would be branded Necromancy and be outlawed in an instant by the rest of the governing body, but what did those stuffy fools know about anything but their learning and supposed wisdom anyway.

Kel'Thuzad was a man of action, not words and windless mutterings. He would bring Tobias Banu back from the dead, return that marvelous magical power to this world, and continue with his plans to make the boy great, thus allowing Kel'Thuzad to claim prestige enough to lead the Kirin Tor, and at last the way would be cleared to do away with these petty bans on magic deemed too powerful for anyone to use.

Granted, as simple as it would be to learn, there was indeed much to be learned, and not much of the information was kept in Dalaran anymore, as the Archmagi of prior years had long since taken to destroying as much 'black' magic as they could, in every effort to handicap those whose power would eclipse their own.

This meant that Kel'Thuzad had years of research and careful planning ahead of him, a long game to play in order to achieve his designs. But he was patient; after all… the dead were not going anywhere, were they?

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Nobu'tan felt an explosion of pain accompanying the sensation of being thrown with great force, before the splintering of wood and a blinding flash of light filled his senses. He lay on the ground, or what he thought was the ground, for some time, holding himself from where he had struck some object painfully, and allowed the sensation of falling and spinning to dissipate. It took an extremely long time, and Nobu'tan wasn't sure if he passed out once or twice along the way.

Soon enough his eyes did begin to clear and he was able to look around the room of some sort of building that he had been teleported to. From his days of exploring the ruins of Stormwind, he guessed immediately that this was some sort of human dwelling, possible the room of a child, what with the smaller than average objects that littered the floor, but it was of a make and design that completely baffled him.

There were no torches lighting the place, and everything seemed to be crafted by magic, they were so exact and well made, sharp corners on furniture and nicely tailored linen. Or at least, it had been at one time, before something catastrophic had occurred here. Nobu'tan could sense older magic that had worked in this room, blasting a massive hole in the far wall, exposing the room to the sky above.

It was night out there, which was disorienting enough for the orc raised human, as he had just been out in the midday sun of Quel'Thalas what felt like mere moments ago. Still, as he glanced around the room again, something about it felt eerily familiar, but not something that the warlock could place. Stooping to examine where he had just landed, Nobu'tan scooped up the object that Kel'Thuzad had thrown at him.

A small whitish stone, with a blue rune carved within, signifying 'home'. "A Hearthstone, of course," Nobu'tan mused aloud, feeling better with his own voice than the stilted silence. But if this was a stone of returning, why had it sent him here, and not to Gul'dan's tent, the place he had called home his entire life?

Deciding quickly, Nobu'tan turned to locate an exit, and found a shattered door hanging loosely off metal hinges, and began to explore the building in detail. What he found was more confusing than helpful however, such as the somewhat scorched pictures on the walls that were actually moving on their own, each containing some combination of a very familiar looking human male and female, along with a tiny baby. Occasionally three other human men would be in this or that one, obviously close relatives or friends of the couple and their young child.

He was able to at least determine that it was a residence building, but the thick layers of dust suggested that it had been abandoned for a long time. Wandering from room to room, Nobu'tan stopped in confusion time and again at all the strange devices that he discovered, such as a small tube of metal that curved up and over from the back of a large eating room, that poured water like a personal fountain when one of the little knobs on either side were turned.

There was another, far smaller room that had a similar feature, along with what appeared to be a narrow pool with a covered lid. Nobu'tan hadn't a clue what these were for, but they weren't magical, so it couldn't have been for a terribly important use. He turned to leave, and almost startled himself when he saw something that he had at least been remotely familiar with, a mirror.

He hadn't had much opportunity, traveling about with the Horde and his master, to truly have a need for one, and while the other apprentices at Dalaran all had one, particularly the females, he had never had the opportunity to look into one for more than a few seconds. Seeing his reflection was rather eerie, and Nobu'tan took several long moments to study his own face, from the somewhat gaunt cheeks from long marches with little food, to the massive nest of unruly hair. Piercing green eyes cut through the gloom, an almost unnatural gleam in them from the levels of magic he had within himself.

Nobu'tan felt drawn to one thing in particular about himself however, something he had felt while casually touching his face but never had had opportunity to examine in detail before, the jagged scar on his forehead. Not even Gul'dan had been able to tell him where he had gotten this scar, but for some reason Nobu'tan felt that this small cut was very important, and had something to do with why he was here now.

Quickly turning one of the fountain's knobs, Nobu'tan relished the cool stream of water that spilled out before carefully wiping at the layers of soot, dust and sweat that caked his face, trying to get a better view of the scar itself, when he heard a sharp, whip-like crack from outside the building. Hastily dropping into a defensive crouch, Nobu'tan darted out of the room, knowing that it was a tactically poor place to defend himself from whom or whatever had appeared.

Darting into a much larger room, Nobu'tan heard the door that led outside creak open, and an older voice call out something in a language he didn't understand. It sounded human, but it certainly was not the common tongue spoken by the people of the Alliance. Perhaps a regional dialect he was unaware of?

It was clear that people weren't meant to be in here, and Nobu'tan did not feel like being caught trespassing, but even as he turned to the small window to try and pry it open and escape, he shuddered as a wave of magic washed over him. A mage, the last thing he needed to run into. At least it didn't feel remotely like Kel'Thuzad's magic, so it wasn't his former master in Dalaran. Crossing to the window as he heard footsteps proceeding toward him, Nobu'tan tried with all his might to pry it open, but magic was holding it shut.

Growing angry, the orc raised human beat on the glass several times, but it wouldn't shatter. The door behind him opened, and Nobu'tan whirled, hands outstretched and ready to defend himself. But the old wizard that stood in the doorway did not wear the violet and gold robes of Dalaran, although they were the same ghastly shade of purple. The man looked some mixture of horrified, and relieved, and kept speaking in that strange human tongue, soothingly like he was trying to calm an animal.

Nobu'tan narrowed his eyes, whatever the wizard was saying, he didn't care. "Leave me alone!" he commanded in the human common tongue, and the mage stopped, looking extremely puzzled. And that worried Nobu'tan greatly. If this man didn't understand common, then where in the Twisted Nether was he?

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore jumped when one of the silvery instruments, once long ago keyed to track the movements of Harry James Potter, started to go berserk, so much so that it fell from its shelf and smashed on the ground of the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts school.

Hastily leaving his desk, where he was mournfully preparing the registrar of new students, which lacked the same child, Albus crossed to the smashed instrument and repaired it with a wave of the Elder Wand. It reformed, before starting to spin and whistle once more, "How can this be?" Albus mused aloud, almost disbelieving.

Harry had been missing for almost eleven years. From the time Albus had personally set the boy out on his relative's doorstep, something had happened that prevented this instrument from ever starting to work. Albus had checked, naturally, and found that the Dursleys had never even so much as seen Harry, meaning that some foreign party had snatched the baby from the doorstep that same night. It had hurt Albus greatly to know that the boy was gone, and it was his fault. The hundreds of things his brilliant mind had come up with as possibilities, not the least were raising the boy himself with help from the Hogwart's staff, and he chosen the one thing that had backfired. It had been a serious blow to his pride.

Still, riding on the hope that Harry had to be out there still, Albus had tried in vain for the past decade to find him, and return him to his native Britain. But there had been no leads, no clues, nothing. It was as though the boy had vanished without a trace.

But now, mere months before Harry was supposed to attend Hogwarts and learn of his magical inheritance, and on the boy's own birthday no less, this had happened. Harry was somewhere, out there in the wide world, and his instrument had finally picked out where he was. Albus was puzzled how the boy had reached Godric's Hollow of all places without him finding out sooner, but that would be a question to pose to the boy in person.

With all haste, Albus raced through the corridors, frightening several of his professors with the speed of his running, and tore across the grounds like one of their students of their way to Hogsmeade. Once outside the gates, Albus gathered his determination to find Harry like a whip, and spun, Disapparating with a titanic crack to the monument in Godric's Hollow. He did not care who saw him, secrecy be damned. Harry was alive and Albus would find him.

Quickly waving his wand, Albus located a presence within the ruined house turned monument, and ran to the door. Throwing it open, Albus called out, "Harry, are you in here?" but there was no response except for a rustle of movement from above.

The boy might have been hurt or afraid, so Albus thought nothing of the lack of communication. Going quickly to the stairs, Albus climbed, bypassing the bathroom, with a sink was still running, odd, but not overly concerning. Heading to Lily and James' bedroom, Albus heard the sound of someone beating on glass, and his heart pounding, opened the door, wand raised just in case.

A small lad, Harry's age, was there, was struggling to get past the ward's the prevented the windows from being opened, but he whirled to face Albus once the door creaked open. Albus froze, mesmerized as Lily's powerful green eyes held him, while James' face, covering in grime and filth but clearly recognizable, examined him warily.

"Harry," Albus breathed, hoping to calm down the boy, who looked ready to fight for his life, "you're alive, is it really you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, before speaking something that Albus did not understand, something similar to Gaelic but choppier, and altogether unknown to Albus. It was clear that the boy did not understand a word of English either, as Harry did not relax, if anything he grew more on edge.

Albus shook his head, indicating that he did not understand. He tried again, much slower, hoping that Harry could at least understand the message if not the words. "Harry," he said pointing at the boy, "I'm Professor Dumbledore," he pointed at himself. "I'm here," he pointed at the room around them, "to help you," he clasped both hands and held them toward the boy.

Harry was studying every word and gesture, but it didn't seem to be sinking in. Albus considered Legilimency for a moment, knowing that he could transmit the idea behind his words instantly, but he wasn't sure if that would be deemed a threat by Harry and cause him to react badly.

"Well, if verbal words won't word, how about the written word?" Albus mused to himself, drawing his wand again, pausing as Harry flinched at the sight of the tool. Holding up his other hand to show he meant no harm, Albus wrote out in the air in fiery letters, 'Harry, I'm here to help you, please trust me.'

Knowing that this might not be enough, he also wrote the same message again in Latin, and in Gaelic runes, putting the full alphabets to each on the side in a separate section. Harry seemed fascinated, not by the words, but rather by the magic used instead. It took several moments before the boy figured out that Albus was still trying to communicate with him, and he began studying each of the letters in the three languages.

Lifting a hand, Harry began to write as well, green fiery letters forming under the Gaelic, somewhat close, but clear and distinct in their own right. Twenty six characters lined up under the Gaelic alphabet, which hopefully would line up letter to letter, followed by a section of writing under Albus' own message.

Checking carefully and translating in his own head, Albus read, 'Who is Harry? And what do you want?'

Albus was torn between laughing and crying. He could communicate with the boy at last, but he had no idea who he was. Hurriedly, he began to hastily explain what he could, that he was Harry, and he had been missing for eleven years, but the old wizard stopped short after writing that the boy was Harry.

Harry had grown very still and quiet, and only then did Albus detect something off about the boy. Not quite a scent, but not quite a sensation, a wafting of darkness that often accompanied exposure to Dark Magic. Hesitantly, Dumbledore wrote out the question that had been plaguing him since first finding the boy. 'Where have you been all these years?'

Harry read the message slowly, checking back to the translation to his language only a few times. Albus sighed as Harry started writing a response. It would be so much easier if he remembered a translation charm, then he could have Harry's word come out as English, but that was not available until he could check the Hogwarts library once again. But he needed to get Harry to the school first.

Harry had finished his response, and Albus leaned forward to read it. 'If you do not know, then I know I am no longer home, and it doesn't matter anymore. What do you want of me?'

Again the boy was demanding what Albus wanted. Not terribly out of place given the situation, but Albus found the boy's persistence suspicious nevertheless. Instead he chose to possibly delay; things would be much easier if they could communicate verbally. 'There is far too much to try and explain here and in writing, would you please come with me to where I can figure out how best for us to speak to each other?' he wrote.

At first, Albus thought that Harry would refuse to leave, but after several moments the boy relaxed slightly and nodded. Sighing in relief, Albus took out a random object from his pocket, which turned out to be a marble, and enchanted it into a Portkey to take the pair of them back to just outside Hogwart's school. Knowing that it would take too long and be too difficult to explain what would happen, Albus just offered the marble to Harry, clasping his hand over the boy's when he reached to take it.

The swirl of blue light and discomforting sensation probably startled Harry, but the journey went smoothly, and moments later they landed in the grass outside the main gate of Hogwarts. Harry withdrew his hand as though burned, glaring at Albus for a mere moment, but the Headmaster of the school shrugged before gesturing at the castle, which redirected the boy's attention to where they were.

Albus wasn't expecting awe or astonishment, but he was pleased that Harry at least paused to take in the castle and the long sloping grounds for a moment before following him inside. A quick wave of his wand, and Albus knew the Minerva, Filius and Severus were the few Professors that were still in the castle, and he sent a quick Patronus to each of them to meet him in his office in ten minutes, while he made a beeline to the library, Harry managing to keep pace with him despite all the potential distractions of the ancient school of magic.

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Nobu'tan was definitely sure he could not trust this old wizard, but from what little communication they had managed he realized that without the human's help he would be lost in this world. He had also gathered from the man's words that he was no longer in Azeroth altogether, as the man hadn't mentioned the war, nor had the stars above looked anything like those from Lordaeron. He was well and truly alone here, stranded in a foreign land, and Nobu'tan had decided that he would be amenable with the old mage for the time being, until he could strike out on his own again.

The rather abrupt trip via magical teleportation was jarring, but the castle seemed interesting enough to distract him for a time, but Nobu'tan refused to let this mage out of sight for the moment, not until whatever the man promised to allow them to communicate was finished.

Through many various corridors and staircases the old man led Nobu'tan, finally ended their trek in a library, with quite literally thousands of books sprawled out in a plethora of shelves. Without even looking, the old wizard waved his little wand and a tome from the far back flew through the air to his waiting hand, and quickly the old man flipped through the pages to the spell he desired. Turning back to Nobu'tan, the old man waved his stick again, muttering spells. Small jets of light soared around the boy and old man, and Nobu'tan felt something inside his mouth alter.

"What in the…" he said reflexively, and the old man smiled, having clearly understood him at last.

"It seems," the wizard replied, Nobu'tan hearing a rough attempt at the common language of Azerothian humans, "that the spell has taken effect. Whenever you hear the English language, it should automatically translate to your own, and vice versus."

"So, that's it then? A few quick words, no ritual, nothing?" Nobu'tan asked, slightly confused. For something of that grand an effect, he and Gul'dan would have had to prepare at least a ritual altar to focus their magic upon. "Just like that…" the wizard replied, smiling.

"As you have many questions Harry, obviously, we may go to my office, I have several of my Professor waiting there who would love to meet you, and can help answer any questions you may have." The old man continued.

Nobu'tan did have a great many questions, but he recognized the fact that this man, an Archmage clearly, had many things to do and see to that he was going to push Nobu'tan off to his subordinates for a time. Ironically, that suiting the young orc raised human just fine, as the old man made him somewhat uncomfortable to be around.

Glancing over the vault of records once again, he asked just one before they left, "does this magic work on the written word as well?"

"Sadly no, but there are other charms that can assist with that, but by and large I believe that you'll have to learn it all over again, Harry." the man said sadly. Nobu'tan was unsure why the man kept calling him Harry, and even more so why he sounded so sad when he spoke to him, but he let it slide for the moment, thinking he might get answers out of these people they were going to meet. If it were possible, it seemed that they were traveling upwards again even further, and momentarily Nobu'tan wondered how large the castle really was, or if it was magically expanded on the inside.

At last they arrived at a stone construct that lay at the end of a hallway, and the old wizard spoke some sort of magical password that made little sense to Nobu'tan. "Jelly Babies…"

But whatever sort of password it was, the construct reacted, leaping aside to reveal a spiral staircase the flowed upward on its own. Stepping onto the lowest step after the wizard, Nobu'tan felt a sort of finality as the stone guardian replaced itself behind them. The staircase led them up to an almost normal seeming wooden door, which the old mage opened without a pause.

Nobu'tan carefully stepped through, feeling an increase in the levels of magic within this room alone compared to the rest of the castle, but it still was rather cold compared to the world of Azeroth, and it added to the feeling of loneliness that Nobu'tan was feeling. Inside were three people, just as the old mage had promised.

The first he noticed was an older woman, who upon looking at Nobu'tan seemed like she wanted to cry, a diminutive man who reminded Nobu'tan of several goblins that he had met once, and finally a tall sallow human that wore a permanent sneer on his face. Although at the moment, even this man seemed somewhat stunned at the sight of Nobu'tan, and it all confused him. Why did these people, who he had never met before even care about his existence?

As though reading the question on his face, the old wizard started making introductions, "Harry, these are Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape. They knew your parents…"

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Severus Snape was not a man often surprised, and it took a lot to get an emotional reaction from him regardless, but it came close when he arrived at Dumbledore's office only for the man himself to enter moments later with the long lost Harry Potter trailing behind him, looking like something out of the Middle Ages, smell included.

Any preconceptions that Severus had toward the boy's upbringing were instantly shot, although he wasn't particularly trusting of the way that Potter's eyes were darting about with a mix of confusion and suspicion. What had the boy gone through to act so distrustful? Normally Severus would expect similar behavior from his Slytherins, but this was well beyond childish paranoia and distrust.

"Well Harry," Dumbledore said as he sat behind his desk, "I'm sure you have many questions, as we have of you, so would you like to ask the first one?"

That caused Severus to raise an eyebrow, what did Albus already know, and why was he sharing this information with the rest of them. The answers came quickly as Potter started to speak in halting English that was clearly a translation charm in effect. "I don't know who any of you are, why you know me, and why you seem to care…"

Minerva seemed ready to burst into tears, while Flitwick seemed to need a moment and took one of the remaining seats. Severus went still and quite, hoping to glean every nuance from what was about to be explained, and hoping to learn why Potter was acting the way he was.

"My dear boy," Albus said slowly, "We all knew your parents, while they went to school here at Hogwarts, and well after that up to their deaths we all regularly spoke with them. I myself held you as an infant once or twice. I confess I had never seen a happier baby in my long lifetime."

None of that seemed to satisfy Potter's intrigue, but Albus didn't seem to mind, but pressed on with his own first question, "It may help us answer you if we knew where you've been these last ten years, Harry."

But the boy shook his head, "I wouldn't know how to explain it…" he said, and Albus nodded understandingly, "That's alright, how about how you came back to Godric's Hollow." He asked.

"I don't know…" Potter replied sincerely. Regardless of the truth of the matter, Severus could see Albus becoming frustrated with a puzzle he couldn't solve brimming. "Alright," he said, plastering the grandfatherly mask on, "How about you explain how you already have such a firm grasp on your magic, who taught you to use it?"

Potter was simply silent, but seemed to be withdrawn slightly at some memory, possibly painful. It was hard to tell and Severus presumed that this soon Albus would not want him to try Legilimency, least of all in front of McGonagall and Flitwick.

After several moments, Albus sighed, "All right Harry, you probably need rest and some food now, right? While these questions are very important, we may try these again tomorrow, maybe show you around some of Hogwarts and maybe the village as well."

Potter nodded slowly and Albus turned to Severus, "Severus, would you escort Harry to the Hospital wing and assist Madam Pomfrey in checking him out, getting him clean clothing and a bed. Rest is very important after all."

Severus nodded, understanding Albus' underlying irritation. The boy was only honest about one of those answers, he had no clue how he had gotten here, but he obviously dodged around the other two, where he had been and who taught him magic. But the question was why? What purpose could withholding that information from them serve?

But Severus didn't do anything regarding it, as he knew that Albus would never let this rest. The man was obsessive in his need to have information, all the better to predict and control the outcomes of events after all.

Leading Potter to the Hospital Wing, Severus momentarily abandoned him to the ministrations of Poppy, who had him out of his clothing and spelled clean in a heartbeat. There had indeed been layers of grime and sweat all over the boy, and the wolf fur cloak with heavy linen robes were a testament to the coldness of whatever weather that Potter had been living in. Checking the clothing over while Poppy gave the boy some food from the kitchens, Severus gleaned a few interesting things. The handmade stitching on the robe was expertly done, even for a homemade garment, the same with the fur cloak, which was of some type of massive beast that Severus had never seen before, and that was something because wolf parts were a very common potion ingredient for a wide variety of purposes, so he had seen many different breeds of wolf.

But this fur was strikingly thick and strong, despite the process in which it was prepared, crude but efficient, obviously done by a master of the craft, but it was still an extremely odd material and method to be used in the modern age. The contents of Potter's pouches and robes were equally strange and unusual. Granted, some things were a typical boy's possessions, rocks and small shiny things that were collected for various sentimental reasons.

But then Severus would come across some strangely glowing jewel or piece of bone that were just out of place among the other items, finally ending with a book written in a language that Severus did not recognize, let alone read. There was also a wand, but the wood was not one that Severus had encountered before either. It seemed everything about the boy was designed to baffle and confused him, but finally he replaced the boy's items where he had found them and turned to assist Madam Pomfrey.

The nurse was waving her wand over the boy, who shuddered every time she cast a spell but otherwise allowed her to perform her checks and other diagnostics as he ate. Stepping up beside her, Severus caught the look of annoyance and intense concentration on Pomfrey's face. When she had finished, Pomfrey retreated back to her office, Severus following quickly behind.

"I've never seen such a thing before," the woman stated as Severus closed the door, "That's boy's own magic levels are off the chart, not even Professor Dumbledore has this much latent magical ability."

"What does it mean though?" Severus asked.

"Well, firstly, Potter has absolutely no physical or mental failings; he is in perfect health, his own magic sustaining and healing him. Secondly, and possibly more importantly is that he has been, wherever he was, surrounded by intense magic for the majority of his life for it to leech onto him to strongly. I imagine that he will be performing great feats of magic with even the simplest spells. I hope to not see him in here again for some sort of magic related accident…" she added with a pointed stare.

Severus just shrugged, "I have no control of his other classes, as you are well aware. But if there are no medical complications, I believe we can just allow the boy to rest…"

"There is something else," Poppy cut across Severus, causing him to pause, "Were you aware of the amount of Dark Magic in the boy's system?"

Severus paused for a moment, "Well, he was attacked by Voldemort when he was an infant after all." but Pomfrey was shaking her head.

"This is significantly more than just a curse scar," she chided, "That boy has actively used dark magic for years, whatever his reasons were it is beginning to affect him. Naturally as I already stated his own high magic levels keep him from showing any of the ill effects but I assure you they're there."

"I will inform the Headmaster, expect him by sometime tomorrow for the boy." Severus said, turning to leave once again.

The boy had a pensive look as Severus left the Hospital Wing, studying the room around him, his food long gone. But that was not Severus' problem, the boy could communicate now, and Pomfrey was in charge of the infirmary, not Severus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nobu'tan watched as the sallow, angry man left him alone in the strange room filled with beds and medical things. While the pair of human magi thought they were in private, hiding in the other room while they spoke of him, Nobu'tan had used some of the tricks Gul'dan, and later Kel'Thuzad had taught him, increasing his hearing so that even their softest tones were audible for him.

So, they were concerned about his practices as a warlock, calling it 'dark magic' and treating it as though it was some evil thing. Such was the same problem with the wizards of Dalaran, and even Ogrim and many of the Horde. They hated that which they couldn't or felt too superior to wield. So he had to be careful when he chose to resume his personal studies of the powers of the Twisted Nether. He wondered for a moment if they even cared about his learning as a mage, or if he was free to pursue those studies at will.

He had also noticed, as the female wizard had been poking and prodding him with her magic but clearly causing no harm, that the sallow man had rifled through his belongings with no cause or care for privacy. Nobu'tan could only presume that he was indeed a prisoner here, regardless of what was implied by the Archmage of this school. However, once night came and the female wizard retired from watching him secretly, Nobu'tan arose and crossed to the large window of the room. It had no methods of opening, not that Nobu'tan was foolish enough to try and escape that way, but it did give an excellent view of the land around, up until the nearby forest.

Ley lines were plentiful here, but whether they were natural like in Quel'Thalas, or artificial like Dalaran he wasn't sure. But regardless it was a powerful source of magic that for some reason these mages didn't seem to tap into to augment their powers. It was something for him to look into, seeing as he required tools and several rune stones to effectively access that magic himself. A tricky ritual of magic, but something that Gul'dan had felt could come in handy for him at some point or another. Apparently he was to be proven right, like all the other times he had given Nobu'tan specific instruction