A note of explanation: Several had expressed concerns about the use of certain terminology and the relative meaning regard the Nether vs the Void. To that I remind you all that, as this story begins not in World of Warcraft era, but many years beforehand, the peoples of Azeroth didn't make a distinction between the two as of yet, and therefore used both terms to refer to the generic place where demons came from. In due time I will be changing the use of the terms to correctly reflect the change of usage as time progresses, when character's knowledge expands. I will also point out that the concept of the term 'Fel' as referring generally to the power of warlocks is actually a really new term to the Warcraft universe (thanks Warcraft movie!), and therefore will be used interchangeably with Nether and Void as well, until said time that the differentiation takes place. Still, many thanks to those that put forth the time to bring up these concerns, and please, continue to review and enjoy!
Chapter Thirteen
The Face of Evil
Hermione was beyond frustrated. Not only were Hogwarts exams frightfully stressful, requiring nearly her entire attention to make sure that she had every fact and nuance prepared for each given subject, but she had also had little to no time recently to meet with Harry in secret to work on her ability in the Arcane.
It was odd, but Hogwarts magic seemed almost dull and simple in comparison to the free formed power of magic that the Ravenclaw taught, more intuitive based and less reliant on specific phrased and motions to produce results. Hermione adored the times that they had to practice and her abilities with wielding pure and raw magical energy was improving. Harry and confided that he sensed that she would be less effective with the elements, but for her not to worry about it, as each divergent talent had its own advantages and drawbacks, so she should be pleased with herself for making such progress.
Still, looking at her schedule for the exams for the hundredth time, Hermione wondered how the Ravenclaw boy would be handling his studies at Hogwarts. If he was anywhere near where Hermione felt, she could only guess that the magic they studied here was frightfully boring for him. If Charms class was any indication that seemed to be the case, although with how Professor Flitwick doted on Harry it was probably hard for him to feel bored in that class.
As the boy would get the charms they learned within the first few minutes of class, Harry had taken to assisting others with the practical material as it was assigned, with the Ravenclaw Head of House's permission, or else he would be given more advanced work to practice while the rest of the class tried to catch up with him, either of which would keep him busy throughout the period.
Professor Flitwick was often praising Harry for how well he had taken to charm work, and had mentioned once that Harry's mother had taken her mastery in the field of study before Harry had been born, attributing his talent for it there. Whether this was the same in the rest of his classes, Hermione didn't know, but it was good enough of proof to her that Harry was very advanced when it came to magical learning.
Only, she knew from the boy's own mouth that he did not actually know any of the magic they learned here before coming, as he had spent the majority of his time learning the Arcane as a young boy, along with several potioneering-like professions that he mentioned to her once or twice. She had seen his personal inking set, that he had made with his own hands, as they boy wrote out complicated designs on pieces of parchment, which had allowed him to enchant them with Arcane Magic and prep them to be holding places for enchantments or other spells that could be saved and activated later on.
It was fascinating, and Hermione hoped to learn all that she could from Harry, but unfortunately their primary education at Hogwarts did take priority, and because of it, she did not expect to learn as much as she'd like before the year ended, and they would be separated when Hermione returned home to the Muggle world for the summer.
Still, even without Harry to guide her, the connection to the castle's magic remained, and she would have opportunities to practice when she was home, however that seemed unwise. Apparently the Ministry could track magic done with a wand, but whether that also applied to the Arcane Hermione didn't know. In any case, it would be best to not risk it, especially with how protective of the knowledge Harry seemed to be, so she'd squeeze what time to practice on her own that she could before the summer.
So, with the last of her exams completed, Hermione found herself wandering the heavily disused sections of the castle, running through the sensations of the castle beneath her feet. As of yet she had not learned any particular abilities that controlled raw magical energy, only ice and fire, but she distinctly felt more of a leaning toward ice. The fear on injury and damaging those around her with fire was less than appealing to her.
Feeling rather… inspired, she started to pool some of the magic into her body, feeling it well up inside her as her hands glowed the familiar purple that she had seen Harry's glow when he used the powers of pure Arcane magic. Wondering what she should try first, she made to step forward, when with a jarring sensation, Hermione found herself sprawling forward, some twenty feet ahead of where she had been.
Looking back, she marveled at the short range teleportation that had just taken place. There was no denying what she had just performed. It was obvious that apparition was a decided simply thing for the Arcane, when wizards needed to wait until the ages of seventeen to even begin attempting. Grinning to herself, Hermione stood and tried to repeat the feat, willing herself to blink back to where she had originally stood.
The smallest of pops sounded in her ears, and she reappeared in the exact spot, walking ahead a step back in the direction she had come from. "Most wondrous…" she commented aloud, trying to think of other things to practice. Oh wouldn't Harry be surprised when she showed him all that she had learned on her own.
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Nobu'tan waited until nightfall after his last examination to make his move. He had learned through several discreet questions that Archmage Dumbledore was leaving this night for the Ministry in London for some business, and it was highly likely from the prickling pain in his scar that whatever he had fought in the forest would make a move on the forbidden corridor this night.
So the course of action was simple, get to that whatever was hidden first.
Sneaking with all haste through the corridors and down the stairs to the third floor, Nobu'tan narrowly passed the irritable caretaker, several ghosts, and even a Professor or two as he made the dangerous trip to the locked door.
Wizard magic prove itself useful here, allowing him to easily break the simple charm that held the door shut, and with a gentle shove, Nobu'tan let the wooden barrier swing open. What awaited him on the other side however, was not something he had truly anticipated. A massive, three-headed dog barred his path, standing atop a trapdoor in the otherwise bare room, all three heads sniffing the air and growling lowly at him.
Knowing that he had to save any use of his fel magic until he had absolutely no choice but to reveal himself, Nobu'tan pulled out a favored spell of the Mages of Dalaran, and simply transfigured the dog into a harmless sheep, which bleated pitifully as the orc raised human strode past it, nudging it off the trapdoor as he approached.
The polymorph wouldn't last for long however, so Nobu'tan wasted little time in wrenching open the door and gazing into the blackness beneath him. Pooling some mage fire in his hand, he let the small orb drop to the spongy floor far below, marveling how the mess of vines and planets writhed in fear of the flames.
So, the next obstacle was some sort of murderous plant, he thought; simple enough to bypass. Aiming for the thickest part of the plant he could, Nobu'tan leapt, landing as the polymorph wore off and the dog started to bark in protest of its forced change. The vines and feelers started to try and wrap themselves around Nobu'tan, but flames burst from his hands, setting the heart of the plant alight, and it cringed back, releasing the warlock and fleeing to the dark corners of the room.
Chuckling to himself, Nobu'tan rose to his feet and quickly found the door to the next challenge. A rustle of wings met his ears as he entered and looked around. Nobu'tan spotted hundreds of little; key shaped flying objects in the air. "Are these just meant to slow down those who would enter?" he asked aloud, calling upon the power of frost and sniping at each and every flying key he could see. As the bolts of frost made contact, they froze part of the key, making it far too heavy for the charms keep them in the air, and sending them plunging to the ground.
After several moments, Nobu'tan spotted one that stood out from the rest, a tarnished silver key, which was somewhat bigger than the mess of gold, and took particular aim to knock that one form the sky. Once it too had fallen, Nobu'tan walked across the sea of partially frozen keys and scooped up the large silver one, comparing it to the door handle across the room.
"A perfect match…" he muttered as the key slid easily into the lock and turned. Almost bored, Nobu'tan pushed into the next room, where the torches ignited to reveal a massive wizarding chessboard. Lines of white pieces barred his way to the door out of here, and while Nobu'tan was not unfamiliar with the game, he had little desire to waste more of his precious time in getting to his destination.
Taking a running start, he allowed fire to blast from the bottoms of his feet, picking up speed as the front line of pawns drew their weapons to block his way. Smirking, Nobu'tan leapt into the air, using the magic of the Arcane to blink ahead, bypassing both lines of chessmen, and dashed to the door as the pieces turned to try and stop him.
He slammed the door before they even had a chance to reach him, and whirled to face whatever was next. An overpowering stench invaded his nostrils, and without thinking Nobu'tan dodged to the left as a massive club struck the floor where he had been standing.
Another ogre-like being that the wizards foolishly called trolls, far larger than the one encountered in October, lumbered closer, raising its weapon to try and crush Nobu'tan. Reacting instantly, the young warlock and mage didn't hesitate to blink forward again, past the lumbering behemoth. Ice flew from outstretched hands, impaling the thick hide and hindering the beast's movement, just long enough for Nobu'tan to bring forth a pair of water elementals.
But even as the pair of liquid sentient creatures charged the ogre, Nobu'tan was already leaving through the nearby door. Killing the beast would only make it easier for his prey to arrive later, and he couldn't have that happen now could he…?
The room beyond had Severus Snape's signature all over it. A small table sat in the middle of the otherwise bare room, seven unassuming bottles of various sizes and shapes covering the surface. The trap began as soon as Nobu'tan stepped over the threshold of the room. Flames, jet black ahead and deep purple behind, leapt across the doorways.
Smirking at the creativity of the magic, Nobu'tan approached the table, knowing that this was one that he'd have to actually play by the rules regarding. A parchment was near the bottles, with a riddle written in the Potion Master's hand:
'Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.'
Almost laughing at the puzzle, Nobu'tan recognized the ingenuity of it. For all the magical prowess some wizards professed, even those back in Dalaran or the camp of the Stormreavers, many Mages and Warlocks and Wizards lacked a great deal of logic and reasoning. They would be left with a two in seven chance of escaping this room. Of course, Gul'dan wouldn't have tolerated a foolish apprentice, and had thus instructed Nobu'tan in the way of puzzles and traps, so it was easy to gauge the lineup of bottles with the puzzle, and read between the lines to find that the smallest bottle would permit him access ahead to where the item he sought presumable lay hidden.
Downing the contents of the little bottle in one swallow, and ignoring the chill that flooded his system, Nobu'tan jumped through the black flames confidently, landing in the chamber beyond and stumbling as the steps led down to a sunken platform.
The torches lit as he entered, casting their light reflectively upon the mirror that he had briefly encountered once before during Christmas. Narrowing his eyes, Nobu'tan knew that this would be the actual challenge, as the mirror showed him what he deeply wanted, and there would be some sort of trap imbedded into the reflective surface to keep him from actually acquiring the item he sought, whatever it was.
So instead of even bothering with the mirror, Nobu'tan started his own layout of traps for the being that should be coming soon, if not right behind him.
"Sarti, Xorton, Quzkol, come forth…" he hissed to the void, summoning those three loyal demons to his side. The imp bounced about happily at the anticipation in the air of violence, while the Succubus wiggled her backside annoyingly. The Voidwalker merely merged with the shadows obediently, obscuring itself from view even as the other pair of demons hid themselves.
Nobu'tan was about to summon an Eye of Kilrogg to check behind when he heard a door slam in the previous chamber. "Master, I believe someone has beaten us here, did you see how damaged the troll was?" a familiar voice stated.
"Quirrell," Nobu'tan whispered, hiding behind of the many pillars in the mirror room, even as the man spoke to his unknown master about Snape's puzzle, which was just as easily solved as it had been by Nobu'tan. The turbaned and robed figure stumbled through the flames, checking around wildly before moving directly to the mirror.
"I can see it!" Quirrell said triumphantly, "the Stone is in the mirror, but how should I get it?"
"Well, well…" Nobu'tan said, turning around the pillar and coming into the torchlight, "Who'd have thought a spineless coward like you would turn out to be my enemy…"
"Incarcerous!" the man bellowed, unleashing ropes and chains to entangle the young warlock, sending him roughly to the stone ground. With a tiny gesture, Nobu'tan stopped his demons from coming to his aid. He needed answers before the man met his brutal end.
"Yes, Potter… me!" Quirrell said without a hint of his former stuttering to be seen. "Although I'm somewhat surprised to see you here so soon… and alone…"
"Well," Nobu'tan said absently, wiggling to a slightly more comfortable position in the bonds that held him tightly, "you have to admit it wasn't a terribly hard mystery to solve, with you trying to kill me no less than three times, and then the supposed forbidden chambers and all that…"
"Of course," Quirrell said, hardly paying attention to Nobu'tan as he returned to the mirror, gazing deeply into it. "But just wait quietly there while I examine this mirror. You will be dealt with after I have the stone for my Master."
"Now that's the part I want to ask about," Nobu'tan said, struggling and up righting himself to a sitting position. "That's the one small detail I never bothered to riddle out. Just what is it that you seek so desperately here, and is it indeed hidden within that mirror?"
Quirrell paused, looking at him in confusion. "You honestly don't know?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "You came all this way, past all those obstacles to stop me without even knowing the reason? You are either very brave or very foolish then…"
"If I was foolish, why would I be sitting here comfortably, chatting with you when you supposedly have me all nice and tied up?" Nobu'tan retorted, smirking as Quirrell was distracted from the mirror once again.
"Use the boy… use the boy…" came a voice from Quirrell, but the man's mouth had not moved. The man however, raised his eyebrows, understanding whatever the message meant, "Yes…" he said to himself, before jabbing his wand at Nobu'tan, dragging the chained up warlock over to him, in front of the mirror.
Quirrell pulled on the material binding him, forcing Nobu'tan to look into the mirror, "What do you see," he demanded. Nobu'tan was rather surprised. He had no care for whatever item the mirror hid from the man, but the tied up Nobu'tan in the reflective surface winked out at him, while some heaviness dropped into his robe's inner pocket.
"Well, that was interesting…" Nobu'tan said, before twitching his head in signal for his demons to attack. Rolling away quickly, Nobu'tan relished the scream of shock and surprise from Quirrell as the shadows merged back into Xorton, and the Voidwalker lunged at the wizard, batting aside the wand as the man tried to throw up a hasty spell.
From behind the man at the same time, Sarti lashed out with her whip, the thick cord snapping around the wizard's neck painfully; meanwhile Quzkol launched several fireballs around the room randomly, adding to the chaos that allowed Nobu'tan to put distance from him and the other wizard.
"What are these creatures!" Quirrell wailed, "Master help me!"
"Fool, the boy has the stone, get the boy!" the other voice cried back coldly, and with a blinding flash and deafening bang, the three demons were thrown backward, even as Quirrell was leaping at Nobu'tan.
"Enough games!" the warlock roared, summoning all the power of the Void that he possessed, chains and ropes breaking as he shifted into a form that he had not used in some time. Purple energy leeched off on him as he stood up on the hooves that had replaced his feet, and fanned out his massive wings threateningly as Quirrell skidded to a halt.
"What is this magic?" the man breathed, even as Nobu'tan allowed fire and shadow to course through him, the bolt of power deflected a the last moment by a hastily raised shield of Quirrell's.
"Let me speak to him." the voice said again, and Nobu'tan rumbled out a laugh as master and servant argued for a moment before the pitiful Quirrell started to remove his turban, revealing the second face hidden there.
"Harry Potter," the face said, and Nobu'tan could only guess that this was Voldemort. "What interesting powers you have amassed in ten years, perhaps I was wrong about you all this time. See what I have become in the time since we last met. Mere shadow and vapor… forced to share another's body. Unicorn blood sustains me, but I cannot create a body of my own, but that stone you have will do it."
"You don't seem to be in a position to make deals such as that…" Nobu'tan said, even as his minions closed distance around Quirrell.
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Voldemort laughed, a wheezing sound that rattled from deep within him, "Yes, you do seem to be the one in power at this moment," he admitted. The boy before him, clad in power and in the shape of some great demon was magnificent to behold.
Where the child had been hiding and what the boy had been learning was a mystery to him, as had the majority of what had happened over the last ten years, but power was always something he could gauge. Strong though the boy appeared, Voldemort wondered if he could sustain it, as the child was still only a first year.
"Nevertheless, you will give me the stone, and together we could do extraordinary things, you know power, and how to use it, this is clear boy. But let me shape it, direct your power to greater heights…" he said, struggling to form words with his weakening energy.
"I think not," the boy said, his voice a mere rumble from the distortion of his power. "I have all the direction I need for my own ends."
"Kill him!" Voldemort roared. He would suffer no equal, and if this brat would not bend his neck to Voldemort, then he would die here and now.
The demon clad child spread his wings and leapt over Quirrell, landing on the far side with a mighty crash, before whirling and sending out streams of energy and fire from his clawed hands, even as the demonic minions pounced again.
Quirrell fought, curses and dark arts flying from his wand, but Voldemort knew that the man was far too weak, and there was little that he himself could do to alter the situation in his current state. The man would die, painfully in fact, once Voldemort left his husk of a body, but at the least he learned much about the powers that the boy controlled. As they entered he had watched the different magical energies that were active in the third floor. Aside from the wizarding traces of many of the professors, there was another, very distinct magical signature, humming brighter as they approaching this chamber.
The boy had great power, but not as the wizards taught in Hogwarts did. This was something that Voldemort had to understand further before he challenged the boy again. Quirrell's folly would turn to Voldemort's advantage in the end.
As he rose up and out of the dead corpse of Quirrell, Voldemort had one last glimpse of the boy as his demonic form left him, red eyed with the heavy use of the Dark Arts, he smirked. Finally there was a challenger worthy of his time, rather than the muggle loving fool Dumbledore.
He would need to fine somewhere to hide for the time being, and await another servant to heed his call, but his time with Quirrell had strengthened him, hopefully another came soon, but even still he had plenty to work out in his mind. Voldemort knew he had studied something somewhere that had made mention of these beasts that served Potter, but he struggled to recall where at the moment.
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Albus stormed from the entrance hall to the third floor corridor. he had known that it was a risk, leaving at a time like thing with the stone in its current position, but he was sure that the mirror of Erised would keep it from Voldemort busy long enough for him to get the silent warnings from the corridor and return.
But he hadn't expected such a fast reaction to his absence, and he hoped that he wasn't too late if events happened as he thought they might. Despite Harry finding the mirror over the winter break, he wasn't certain if the boy would be interested enough to riddle out the mystery of the stone, and pursue Quirrell into the third floor for it or not. The first few rooms left no answers to whether this was the case or not, with Fluffy the Cerberus fast asleep from enchantment, while the Devil's Snare and flying keys were both dealt with as they were meant to be.
Professor McGonagall's chess set was where the oddities started. Certainly the white set was defeated, but from the small counter they installed to track the number of victories, only one game had been played. The troll was unconscious, with massive welts on its head from severe blows. Finally Severus' puzzle, decidedly clever, had also been bypassed, leaving the mirror only as a barrier between Voldemort and the stone.
Parting the flames with the secret passphrase, Albus stepped through to the finale room, noticing immediately the smashed mirror, its glass shards littering the stone floor along with a mass of ashes in the shape of a human form. Slumped against a nearby pillar, nearly dead from exhaustion, was Harry.
"Harry…" Albus said, ignoring all else and going to the boy. The boy was alive, although much of his magical energy was drained away, possibly in a frightful battle with Quirrell. The older wizard was dead, but with a casual wave of the Elder Wand, Albus could sense the magic of Voldemort about, along with excesses of Dark Magic.
A terrible duel, to be sure, surmounting with Harry defeating or mortally wounding Quirrell, and Voldemort fleeing the man's body, which utterly destroyed the vessel he had housed in for nearly a year.
Albus took Harry up in his arms, surprised at how heavy the small boy actually was, and carried him out of the secreted area and back to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey wasted no time upon seeing the boy to prepared a bed for him, transfiguring the lad's clothing into a hospital gown and starting several scans to make sure he was completely free of injury.
"Magical exhaustion, and several minor cuts and scrapes, nothing more..." She declared after a few moments, "Bed rest should fix him up in about a day or two."
Albus nodded, it was obvious that until Harry's magic levels returned he would be unable to get any definite answers about what occurred down in the room with the mirror, but clearly Voldemort had not gotten a hold of the Stone, or else Harry would have been dead.
But then, Albus thought hard, where was the Stone, if Voldemort didn't have it and the mirror was broken.
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Nobu'tan awoke groggily, surrounded by irritating whiteness. Groaning mildly, he realized what must have happened. He delved too deeply into the Void, drawing so much magic that it started to pull back on him, trying to drag him out into the Twisted Nether; a common and rather foolish mistake that killed many a Warlock Neophyte. Gul'dan wouldn't have tolerated such a mistake, and would have punished him severely for such a miscalculation, but that only reminded Nobu'tan that his mentor was very far away from him now.
He survived, even if much of his personal magic had been depleted to defeat Quirrell and Voldemort, but that probably led to other problems, as the orc raised human could only guess that Archmage Dumbledore had found him and brought him back to the Hospital to recover, which meant that the old man would suspect many things regarding the outcome of the battle, such as the location of the artifact that the man was after.
Finding his wand on the nightstand next to the bed, Nobu'tan grabbed it, changing the horrid and uncomfortable clothing back into his school robes, and fished out the item that had appeared there when he looked in the mirror. The blood red stone was certainly a strange object, but not one that he was unfamiliar with.
"A Philosopher's Stone?" he asked aloud, confused. "That was all he was after?"
This really puzzled the young warlock. He knew bit and pieces of advanced Alchemy, as far as Azeroth was concerned, and these mystical stones, while rare and priceless, were more or less used for only transmutations of metals as far as he knew. Were there some other abilities of the rare substance that these wizards were more aware of than he?
It warranted hanging onto the item, at the least, even if keeping it hidden that he had it would prove somewhat difficult with Dumbledore literally breathing down his neck every spare moment now. Speaking of which, as he hid the item back in his robes, the old man entered, looking disturbingly cheery.
"Ah, Harry, good to see you up and around again…" he said brightly, making Nobu'tan feel slightly sick inside, "You gave us all quite a fright, going down into the third floor all on your own after Quirrell…"
Nobu'tan remained silent, allowing the man to continue in his false assumption of the events. So long as the old man thought that Nobu'tan had gone to save this stone, he may be in the clear for a little while.
"However…" Dumbledore continued, causing the warlock to pause in his thoughts, "there are a few questions that I'm afraid I must ask you regarding what happened."
The old man shifted, stepping to a chair next to the bed on which Nobu'tan was sitting, and the orc raised human tensed as the powerful Archmage sat next to him. "I have to admit I was quite surprised to find that you had gone after Quirrell, when it seemed you had little interest in anything related to the mysterious circumstances that were happening this year."
Nobu'tan shrugged, it was the truth that he hadn't cared less about the blatant hooks to try and get him involved with matters that were not relative to getting back to Azeroth. "Well, I suppose the castle itself warned me, so I didn't really know why he was there or what he was after, just that it was a threat that needed to be eliminated."
"…The… castle, warned you?" Dumbledore said, puzzled.
"One of the first lessons an Arcane user learns is how to tap into the ambient magic of a powerful location to power their spells. I chose Hogwarts as it was the most logical choice, with four ley lines under it…" Nobu'tan said, turning away slightly. He was still hesitant to tell the old man too much regarding the Arcane; just in case the man's wickedly brilliant mind noticed the differences between the true arcane spells he possessed and his Warlock abilities.
"So that would make magical locations such as Hogwarts partially sentient." Dumbledore surmised, stroking his beard in thought.
"To an extent, yes," Nobu'tan agreed, "magic does wondrous and sometimes frightening things when left alone for centuries, and the castle was quite forceful in making the connection to me, and I expect it would be the same for any mages that come in the future, if they come."
The old man smiled, "Does that mean you're deciding to become more serious about showing more of that magic to me?"
Nobu'tan shrugged, avoiding the question. Getting back to the original topic to throw the man off of him as quickly as possible, Nobu'tan continued, "I never did learn what Quirrell was after, as he broke the mirror during our fight, and I didn't see anything fall out of it, so I guess it was lost. A pity that, it must have been something powerful for Voldemort to want it so badly…"
Dumbledore sighed, and Nobu'tan smirked to himself as the old man began his small explanation. "Well, in brief, the item was a stone that belonged to an influential friend of mine named Nicholas Flamel, who is an alchemist of some renown for the time being. The stone was his crowning achievement, and the tool that allowed him and his wife to live for well over eight centuries. If it is indeed gone, then they have only a limited amount of time left on this world."
That caused Nobu'tan to pause. Could he condemn two unknown people to death for the selfish reason to hang onto a small stone? Could he trust that Dumbledore was even telling the truth? As far as he knew there was no such property of the Philosopher's stone, but what if…
"I… I'm sorry to hear that…" he said slowly, slowly accepting that the old wizard had already accepted that his friends were going to die, and there were means and uses that Nobu'tan had for such a stone that would help him return home. It was selfish, but if Gul'dan had taught Nobu'tan anything, it was that sacrifices must be made for the power to do anything worthwhile, and all the better if the sacrifice was someone else's.
"Well, it cannot be helped," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet a moment later. "To the well organized mind, death is merely the first step to the next great adventure, and Both Nicholas and Perenelle have had plenty of years to enjoy this life, and were more than ready to accept the consequences when they loaned me the stone in the first place… but still…"
The old man trailed off, before bidding Nobu'tan a good day and departed. Only once the man was out the door did Nobu'tan let out a sigh of relief. It was short lived however, once the Hospital Matron caught sight of one of her patients up and about, and immediately started running a battery of magical tests on him, making sure that nothing had changed from when he was brought in the night previous.
"You're magical levels are back in an acceptable range, but you need to take it easy Mr. Potter, so that they can return to normal. No heavy spell casting for at least a week, not that you'll have the chance once the summer holiday begins… You're free to go."
That statement had Nobu'tan pausing. Did they honestly think that they had the right or power to stop him from using his magic at any time? Shrugging off the thought, Nobu'tan chose to enjoy his last remaining week at the school, blatantly ignoring what madness was awaiting him when the school finally closed and the question of where he was going to go came up again. As per Pomfrey's orders, he even limited his spell casting, only working marginally on his skills from Inscription and Alchemy instead, as they were far less demanding than his combat abilities.
Unfortunately, time moved on unhindered, and the dreaded day arrived when the students started to file out of the school, back toward the village and the station that would return them to their families. Nobu'tan had been requested to remain in the castle for Archmage Dumbledore to make the appropriate arrangements for his summer home, waiting until the last of the other children had left before walking with the young warlock to the edge of the castle's wards.
Looking back at the towering structure, Nobu'tan felt a small wave of sadness at departing the powerful magical location. Not particularly because of any form of nostalgia or sadness at missing the people, but more because he could feel the magic straining to reach him the further away he got, making it all the more difficult for him to use his abilities as a mage.
Not a terrible loss by any means, but limiting his options nonetheless. It would prove awkward if he had to rely on his warlock abilities and someone undesired found out about them however, as Dumbledore made it quite clear that the wizard skills could be easily tracked by their government, the Ministry. A nuisance, to be sure, but there may yet be ways around that particular ruling.
Once Nobu'tan passed the outer boundary of the castle grounds with Dumbledore, the old man stopped, holding out his arm for the young warlock to take. Hesitating only for a moment, Nobu'tan knew that he had no choices in the matter, as it was obvious that the Archmage trusted him very little, and that him being allowed out of the man's immediate sight was something in and of itself.
Taking hold of the arm, Nobu'tan felt a somewhat uncomfortable squeezing sensation around him, before they appeared on a very bland and unappealing street. The houses were all strikingly similar in shape and build, so drastically different from the cities and communities that Nobu'tan had seen in Azeroth or even the small pockets of the wizarding world that it emanated an aura of boredom.
Unfortunately, it was to one of these houses, with a little number four on the sign before it, which Dumbledore approached. Stopping just outside the door, the old wizard turned back to Nobu'tan, "Well, here we are Harry; inside you'll find you mothers last living relatives, your Aunt, Uncle and Cousin. I expect it will be difficult for you, only meeting them for the first time now, and you'll all want some time alone to get to know each other, so I will leave you here. Remember what I said concerning magic, Harry, and know that you can come and go from Diagon via the Knight Bus. Just hold out your wand to summon it and it will transport you for a small fee wherever you please."
Nobu'tan nodded, knowing that this meant the man was effectively dumping him here, albeit giving him the means to come and go as he pleased, but enforcing that he remain here instead of running off, even though that would be his first instinct.
"What reaction am I supposed to expect?" Nobu'tan asked, "Do they know that I am coming?"
"They… are aware of your arrival, but they are less than impressed…" Dumbledore said hesitantly.
"As I thought…" Nobu'tan said, brushing past the Archmage and knocking on the door gently.
A very large man with a thick moustache and very little neck answered, glowering at the pair of them as he opened the door. "This is him then…" he said gruffly, with no introduction.
"That he is, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, adjusting his eye glasses casually.
"Couldn't have bothered to have him put on normal clothes, could you?" the man retorted angrily, "Well, come in already, your letting all the cool air out, hurry up boy!"
Nobu'tan already didn't like this man, but obediently shuffled inside, looking around the spotless and frightfully mundane hallway. There were some items that he recognized, like the clocks on the walls and the strange orbs that emitted light, but at the same time there were bizarre things that he had never seen before, contraptions that reminded him strongly of the gnomes of Dalaran.
Inside the sitting room was a horse-faced woman, presumable his Aunt, and an extremely fat boy with blond hair that looked strikingly like the man. Soon enough the walrus-like man returned, without Archmage Dumbledore. He looked rather flustered, and Nobu'tan could guess that having his nephew in his house was the last thing he wanted.
"So…" he said hesitantly, unsure as to what to expect from these people.
"Well, you're here now. We've prepared the spare bedroom for you to use for the summer, but we expect you to deal with you own food and stay out of our way as much as possible…" the man said bluntly.
Nobu'tan nodded, desiring nothing less than that himself. "I understand, and I don't plan on sticking around for more than what Dumbledore wants, I have a friend who's parents invited me to stay with them during the latter part of the summer, so if you'd like…"
"Yes, please go," the woman said rather high pitched and quickly.
"As you wish…" Nobu'tan replied with a small bow, before turning toward the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. The first door was ajar, and inside he found a small bedroom, filled with junk and broken items that were presumably the other boy's destroyed belongings.
It didn't matter, he would be gone for most of the days on end if he got his way, and once he went to the Malfoy's he wouldn't return before Dumbledore came to take him back to the castle, which he knew that the old man would.
Whatever reasons the wizards had for keeping him had clearly not been resolved, so he knew that they'd be back. Perhaps he could get answers out of Lord Malfoy when he was a guest in the man's home. As the man seemed to be at odds with Dumbledore, according to Draco's mannerisms regarding the Archmage, he would be the ideal ally against the old man's manipulations.
But how well could he trust anyone at this point? He wouldn't know even if he had to bother with any of them until he contacted the Burning Legion through Stonehenge. Luckily, Malfoy Manor seemed to be in the same general location as the standing stones, so it would be a short trek from there to reach the magical location and perform the rites to speak.