A pillar of flames burst to life, whirling in heatless blue. It only lasted a few moments before fading away, revealing…
A massive figure swinging a heavy mace that crashed into the floor of the Great Hall with a resounding crash. Dressed in heavy plate armor adorned in skulls, there was a blue glow about their chest and the mace itself, while a green one emanated from their helmet. Even more alarming, there were several thick arrows that appeared to be sticking into the figure. Those arrows gave off an ominous purple glow.
The figure lifted the mace with one hand. Once Dumbledore was able to get a better look at the weapon, it looked to be more hammer than mace, with yet another skull upon the side. Just as he was moving to confront the person, that mask snapped to look at him.
“What have you done? Where is the Banshee Queen!?” The voice was cold, like a winter’s chill settling within the chest of a man.
Albus offered the man a warm smile, as though he could banish the chill with just the force of his personality. “Whatever fight you may have been in, know that you are safe here. You are in Hogwarts and I am Headmaster Dumbledore.”
That glowing green gaze seemed to consider him for a moment before nodding and straightening up. The hammer turned head down to rest on the floor while the figure kept one hand on the handle as if to keep himself propped up. “None of which answers my questions, Mage. Why have you brought me and where is this Hogwarts located? You are not of Northrend, nor do I know your name from my time in the Alliance.”
The Headmaster shook his head, reaching up with one hand to stroke his beard. “Hogwarts is on the British Isles, my good man. And I am a Wizard, not a Mage.”
One armored gauntlet waved away the correction. “I care not what you call yourself, Mage. I can recognize the feel of the magic within you.” That hand swept over the Great Hall. “In all of you. I would say you were a part of Dalaran but they know better than to mess in the affairs of Icecrown. That you have done so shows you are neither an ally nor wise.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as the glow in the armor and visor intensified.
Dumbledore continued to smile, though one hand dipped into a pocket and wrapped around the elder wand. He wouldn’t normally use such a thing in the Great Hall, but he had wanted it on hand should Harry have proven difficult. He never expected for the Goblet to have summoned such a creature. Then again, perhaps the spell had worked as it was intended. “My good man, I assure you we have only the best of intentions and that no harm was meant to you. I have to ask though, would your name be Harry Potter, by any chance?” He ignored the way many of those in the room gasped.
The armored figure narrowed those glowing eyes at the Headmaster before giving a short nod. “Few there are that have heard of that name, rather than the one I was known by. Most know me as Harry Fordragon, a Paladin of the Alliance.” Harry lifted the hammer onto one shoulder. “Now though I am the Lich King, all that holds back the Scourge from rampaging across the world.” He swung that hammer until it was level with the floor, pointed directly at the Headmaster. “And you are keeping me from my duties. Who knows what Sylvanus is up to during my absence from the Citadel?”
Albus raised one placating hand. “As I said, Harry, my boy, no one here means you any harm. Let us all calm down and have a discussion in my office. You have been missing for over a decade, after all.”
The murmuring in the Great Hall intensified at the Headmaster’s statement, though it cut off as a deep chuckle escaped the figure identified as Harry Potter.
“You think a mere decade has passed? I was a Paladin for the Alliance for over twenty years before the battle of the Wrath Gate. Nearly another decade since I took up the mantle of Lich King. For all those years I have kept back the Scourge from ravaging the lands and you make little of my sacrifice. Though you know the name of Harry Potter, you do not know Harry Potter.”
Harry flipped the hammer until he slammed the handle down on the floor, holding it with both hands beneath the head. The blue glow on the skull adorning the hammer brightened along with the green from the helm. “Know that what happens is upon your head. I must return to the Citadel and the lives of your people shall empower me to do so. Remorseless Winter.”
A wave of cold erupted from the hammer, attempting to sweep across the Great Hall.
Dumbledore whipped out his wand, summoning a shield that cut off the majority of the room from Harry’s armored form. Across from him many of the Professors had done likewise, with Filius having responded first. Even Severus had conjured a shield, though the perpetual scowl on the man seemed to have deepened.
Waves of cold lashed at the shields and the Headmaster felt it was all he could to sustain the shield. He was peripherally aware of some of the students having conjured their own shields, especially those of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. A flurry of snow obstructed the view beyond the shield.
Fortunately, whatever spell it was that Harry used only lasted a handful of seconds. However, the snow continued to drift in the air, even after the cold faded away. From within the obscuring snow came that same cold voice. “Mages. Always annoying. Until you return me to my Citadel or I return on my own, Hogwarts shall be my enemy.”
Suddenly a massive wave of pain jolted down the connection the Headmaster had to school, alongside the sound of smashing stone.
While still maintaining the shield, Albus conjured a quick blast of air to clear the snow. What was revealed was a large hole in one of the walls and no sign of Harry.
***
Harry marched through the halls of the castle, Hogwarts the mage had called it. Wherever this place was, it was further from Northrend than he had ever been. Further than Draenor. Whatever force the Mage had used to summon him there, it was preventing a normal death gate from forming.
There was still a tenuous connection to the Scourge at this distance, though he could not exert any influence on them at the moment. He did not like being alone among enemies. Even the mindless horde would be a boon against the numbers he had seen in the summoning hall. Though he no longer had any val’kyr of his own, he was still capable of creating and controlling the forces of death.
When he could no longer sense any of the living nearby, he paused beside a pair of suits of armor. The air was thick with magic, as well as the lingering souls of the many of the mages who had once wandered these halls. Reaching out, he grasped two such souls and bound them to the armor. While not the same as a true death knight, the animated armor would serve as the start of a defensive force, until he could pierce through the veil to return to Icecrown.
The suits of armor shuddered before taking on the familiar blue glow. Stepping from their display, they settled into position at Harry’s back. He gave them a nod before turning to continue his march, searching for an exit or even a ritual room. The Mages always seemed to have a number of those on hand.
Turning the corner in one hall, Harry came helmet to face with a number of ghosts. The spirits appeared more surprised than hostile. More importantly, they were more coherent than the souls he had bound to the armors. “Good. You shall serve me as a spectre in this world.”
One of the ghosts, an older human, seemed to frown. “I say, my good man, however did you get here? Hogwarts hasn’t had knights wandering her halls for many a year. Certainly never ones with armor decorated such as yours. So macabre.”
Stretching out a hand, Harry ceased the essence of the ghost, twisting it and binding it to his will. The ghost resisted for a moment, twitching, before shifting into the form of the spectres that had once served the Lich King before being freed when Arthas fell.
The rest of the ghosts fled before he could latch onto them, save for two, a female and what looked like a portly priest. Harry took hold of their essences and converted them to a banshee and spectre. They floated over to join the first.
Looking into their minds, Harry nodded. “You shall be known as The Headman, the Friar, and Lady Gray. Now show me how to leave this place.”
***
Harry and his new servants moved deeper into a thick forest outside the castle. He felt the heavy magic fall away, replaced by the wild magic natural to the world, though it was one that was unfamiliar to him. While he had marched away from Hogwarts he had interrogated his new minions. They had described the world that he was in, at least what they knew of it, considering that they had been contained within Hogwarts for centuries.
Beneath his helmet Harry frowned as he considered the implications. He had been summoned across the barrier between worlds. That required powerful magic. It was also never something undertaken lightly. That there was a connection between him and these wizards as they called themselves wasn’t worth considering.
Even as a child he had never worried about where he had come from, satisfied in the guidance he had received from his adopted Father, Bolvar Fordragon. Serving others in the church while young, receiving martial training, and eventually becoming a paladin in service to the Alliance had fulfilled him. Then came the call to battle against the forces of the Scourge. He had taken his father’s place at the Wrath Gate, fallen and been tortured by Arthas for not being Bolvar.
Then came the defeat of Arthas at the hands of the combined Alliance and Horde forces. By that time though, he had come to know the truth of the Scourge and demanded that Tirion place the Helm of Domination upon his head so that he could continue to serve his people, to save them from a rampaging Scourge.
It had taken him years to learn to control the Scourge, to hold back the ravening horde and give them direction. Northrend was mostly his to command and protect. Fighting with the Legion had inspired him to raise new Death Knights to bolster his forces, as well as finding other ways to empower the forces of the Ebon Blade. When the Legion had been beaten back, he still felt something dark and cold waiting in the wings. He continued to train the Knights of the Ebon Blade and had been in the process of deciding if he should raise new Val’kyr when Sylvanus arrived.
Now he was here, in the forest outside Hogwarts, in the land of his birth. A land he felt no connection to. No sudden urge to defend this land, to bond with the wizards. He had his duties, duties he desperately needed to return to.
Finding a clearing in the forest, he came to a stop and gathered his energy. Whatever had been preventing his death gate from forming was no longer in force. Reaching out, he tore a hole in the fabric of the universe. However, just as the gate was forming, he felt something take hold of it. The gate opened to reveal the same hall within Hogwarts. While it appeared the hall was empty, Harry did not take the chance and canceled the gate before something could emerge.
What had happened to his gate? What could steal magic like that? He doubted it was the world of the one calling himself Headmaster Dumbledore. While the mage or wizard had indeed felt powerful, it would require far more power than that to take hold of a spell like that. Harry doubted he would be able to do it himself, even were he to know how to do so. That meant there was another force at work. Most likely an ancient artifact of some kind, if experience was any indication.
The question now turned to what else to do. Death Gate was his primary means of moving between locations. Even if he had a frost wyrm at his disposal, he wouldn’t be able to cross the veil. It would have given him more options on where to go though. With his new minions having no knowledge of the outside world, he was left with few options. Fortunately, he would at least not be without new forces of his own.
Planting the handle of his hammer in the soil, he grasped it just below the head with both gauntleted hands. Reaching through the hammer into his surroundings, he found the means of creating his army.
Countless humans and other creatures had fallen over the millenia within this forest. Those nearly crawled from the earth, their desiccated flesh and bones feeling the cold air for the first time since their deaths.
Harry recognized the creatures that looked like centaurs, the first he had ever had among his Scourge. There was also a giant of some kind, though unlike those he was used to from Azeroth. The risen spiders were more familiar.
Hundreds of corpses shambled into the clearing and Harry felt himself smile beneath his helmet. No longer was he alone in this world, at the whims of the mages that called themselves wizards. While he would normally have no quarrel with the humans, they had summoned him against his will, and at a delicate moment as well. Who knew what the Scourge was up to without his will to hold them back?
Turning towards the direction of distant Hogwarts, Harry made up his mind. Opening another death date, he allowed the magic to be redirected, showing the hall once again. Motioning with one hand, he directed the undead swarm through the gate. When no immediate screaming reached him, he knew that the hall was empty. He doubted it would remain so for long though.
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Once his new Scourge had completely traveled through, along with his two knights and spectres and banshee, Harry stepped through the gate, keeping it open behind him. The hall seemed almost filled with his forces, though they were fewer in number than the number of mages he had caught a glimpse of after being summoned. Additionally, most of them had been children and would prove a negligible fighting force should things come to a head.
Casting his helmeted gaze around the hall, he also reached out with his magic, searching for whatever force was influencing his gate. He could feel a thin thread connecting to his still open gate and followed that thread to a strange artifact standing on a pedestal. It appeared to be a chalice of some kind, only formed of wood rather than metal.
Coming to stand before the chalice, Harry searched it with his senses, both mundane and magical. He could sense the souls and magic within the artifact, almost akin to how Frostmourne had felt. As if the artifact had stolen the souls of countless people over the centuries.
With a growl, he hefted his hammer high overhead, then brought it crashing down with both hands. Upon impact with the chalice there was an explosion of magic, one that nearly blew Harry off his feet and did manage to knock down some of the nearby ghouls. A whirlwind of souls screamed into the air, whirling around the room. Harry was tempted to grab some of those souls, urged on by the Helm, yet he resisted. He had the forces he would need for the moment and it was not his place to judge those souls. This was not his world. Additionally, he refused to be like Arthas and the other Lich Kings before him. He would not steal those souls.
Soon the souls scattered, most hopefully moving on to the next adventure, though some would undoubtedly linger with resentment for their years of enslavement. He would deal with those souls should he need to do so.
Satisfied that the power of the artifact redirecting his gate was fully exhausted, he went to open a new death gate back to Icecrown. The gate split apart the world for a moment before shattering. He blinked. He had never seen a death gate shatter like that. Fail, sure. Wave, unexpected but he’d seen what happened what something like a warlock locked down the ability. Never before had it actually shattered though. What did that mean? He tried again only to get the same result.
Scowling and growling, he tried to open a gate back to the clearing in the forest. This one opened fine and he stared at it. This would have to bear looking into. He did not have a way to immediately return to his world. He would need help. That boded ill. He did not want to think about that right now. Given all that had happened, he was more likely to smash the mages rather than talk about an exchange of resources.
Stepping through the gate back to the forest clearing, he summoned his new Scourge to follow him, then marched deeper into the forest. Before the gate closed, he could just make out a voice calling for him to stop.
***
Albus looked at the shattered remains of the Goblet and frowned. There was no power among wizarding kind that could accomplish the kind of destruction before him. The Goblet had stood for centuries, its originals shrouded in lost history. Now it was broken and scattered around the Great Hall. He just knew he would have to answer to the Goblins for losing their artifact. That was a problem for later though. It would be easy enough to hide the remains until the end of the Tournament at the least. By then he should have a solution, or could at least use Harry’s return to distract the populace.
Using his wand, he gathered up the pieces of the Goblet, then transfigured a chest to put them in. He then took the chest back to his office. Once there he settled into his chair with a sigh. How was he to bring Harry to heel? The young man was obviously much more powerful than he had even appeared at his summoning. That armor was an ominous sign as well.
What had happened to Harry over the years? The boy had said that he had lived for decades but that couldn’t be right. Something must have gone wrong with the summoning spell. Unless Harry had been much further afield than just lost somewhere in the world. Had some dark lord of the past stolen Harry originally? Is that why no one had been able to find him? Was Harry a new dark lord?
The more the Headmaster thought about it, the more it made sense. Harry had been willing to kill everyone in the Great Hall. Harry wore armor adorned in skulls. Harry wouldn’t listen to Albus. Harry was a dark lord.
The question now was how to get one dark lord to destroy the other?
***
Harry and his forces moved deeper into the forest, away from Hogwarts. He knew that he would have to return to the castle at some point. There was too much he didn’t know about this world and the castle represented a wealth of information. Not to mention how much magic had been swirling around the place. It would be a powerful nexus and most likely needed for returning to Azeroth. Unless he could find another nexus of power in this strange land.
After an hour of travel he began to sense the forces watching him from the shadows of the trees. They felt like the spiders he had risen to join his Scourge. That they were not immediately attacking spoke of some intelligence. How intelligent remained to be seen. Would they be like the Nerubians that had once followed Arthas?
Further in, the trees started to show the webbing that spoke on inhabitation. However, there were no structures. Either these spiders didn’t have the civilization that the nerubians had or they were new enough and didn’t have the time to build up.
Several spiders stepped out of the shadows. Many were the size of wolves while some few were of a size with those wandering the forests of Azeroth. None approached close enough to worry about, just watched from within the trees. They did seem to outline a path that led further into the web strewn forest.
Only a few minutes passed before they arrived into what could only be the central lair. The trees appeared to have been groomed to grow sideways, providing a myriad of paths for the spiders to traverse. One side of the lair was layered in shadows, though Harry could sense the vast life force dwelling within.
Stepping forward, Harry planted the head of his hammer on the ground and rested his hands on the top of the handle. He stood there waiting.
A deep voice spoke from the shadows. “Why are you here, cold one?”
“I have been brought to this world against my will and seek allies in returning to my home. Would you join me or shall I bind you to my will upon your death?”
There was a clacking of mandibles that echoed across the lair before the voice replied. “It isn’t often that a meal wanders into my lair, yet you do not feel like a meal. Those with you stink of death and decay. Even you, with your cold metal, do not feel like the food. What are you?”
Harry swept one hand back towards the Scourge. “They are the risen fallen, bound to my will. The undead Scourge that will sweep over this land until a way to return home has been found. There is no food for you here.” Turning his attention back to the shadows, he said, “Again, will you join me or shall I bind you to my will upon your death?”
The shadows seemed to shake for a moment before a figure stepped forth. The spider that emerged was the size of a mammoth. “I have no desire to die, only to feast and to care for my brood. Would serving you feed my brood?”
Harry nodded. “The former Lich King once numbered a spider such as yourself among his forces. She was well cared for before her unfortunate demise at the hands of adventurers.” Harry himself had almost joined in the raid on Naxramas. He had heard about the encounters there though, including the spider that ruled over one quarter of the floating necropolis. That spider had reportedly been the size of a building.
The spider nodded with a clack of its mandibles. “I am Aragog. My mate is Morag.” A second similarly sized spider stepped from the shadows.
“Once I was Harry Fordragon. Now I am the Lich King, ruled of Icecrown Citadel. When we return to my home, you shall be rewarded. Until then, we shall find you some food. I have sensed much of the living in the forest.”
Aragog shivered. “The forest is home to the centaurs, who slay my brood, even as they feed it.” There seemed to be genuine anger in the spider, a feeling that Harry could understand.
“Then let us face the centaurs together. They shall join us or die.”
***
The encounter with the centaurs had not gone the way Harry had expected. The centaurs of Azeroth were warlike, ready to fight over everything, yet also willing to acknowledge strength when it smashed their leaders with a hammer. The ones in this forest had been just as warlike, with their arrows. However, once those arrows had proven less effective against the Scourge and useless against his armor, they had scattered, except for one massive stallion that called himself Magorian.
Magorian had stated that the centaurs would never work with the spiders after years of losing their young to the brood. Harry had offered to control the brood in return for service, promising that both forces would be accommodated. The centaur had declined, stating that the word of wizards could not be trusted. Additionally, there was something about the stars and the heavens. Not that the details mattered to Harry, only the refusal.
The Scourge had rushed forward, chasing after the fleeing centaurs, as had Aragog’s brood. However, the centaurs proved fleet enough, especially among the trees, to escape. For the moment. Harry tasked some of the brood and Scourge, especially the risen centaurs, to track the herd until they settled in a new location. There would be time enough to take care of the centaurs later.
Afterwards, it had been time to secure provisions for the brood. Harry had vastly underestimated the size of Aragog’s family. How had the spiders been providing for themselves all this time? There didn’t seem to be enough wildlife in the forest, but perhaps it had more to do with the magical nature of the spiders and prey alike. Either way, he had the Scourge spread wide and drive the animals into the waiting limbs of the brood.
Ignoring the feasting, Harry instead marched through the forest, raising more ghouls for the Scourge. He avoided nearing Hogwarts, for the moment. There was no need to invite conflict with the mages before he was ready.
While raising the ghouls, he continued to query the banshee and spectres, for while their information on the outside world might be limited, they had inhabited the castle for centuries and had insights into the workings of the mages and especially Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the so-called leader of the forces of the Light.
The banshee and spectres were more than willing to talk about Dumbledore’s secrets, as their will was bound in his and they were no longer bound by the castle or previous oaths. The more he learned the more Harry was satisfied with his decision to leave Hogwarts when he had arrived. The Headmaster was a political creature the likes of which had few equals in Azeroth. Perhaps the machinations of Katrana Prestor would be similar. Or not. Especially given how long Dumbledore had been involved in those politics. There were very few humans who lived as long as this one had. Azeroth was a harsh world.
As more ghouls joined the Scourge, Harry felt his connection to those he had been taken from growing stronger. It was still a mere thread that could be barely felt, but it was more than it had been when he had been summoned. Was that the way he would find a path home? Strengthen that connection until he was able to punch through the veil?
The more he studied the connection the more he was convinced he would need to enlarge the Scourge. Perhaps he needed more powerful minions among the mindless horde. There hadn’t been anything among the dead in the forest like the champions he had turned into Death Knights. Other than the souls he had bound to the armor, and perhaps the banshee and spirits, he had none he could consider powerful.
For a brief moment he contemplated using Aragog and Morag and seeing what they would be like as undead minions. Only briefly though. He had given his word to assist their brood. Plus it would be nice to have a new spider force among the Scourge again. While he had never personally commanded any of Maexxna’s brood, he had heard about their effectiveness.
Shaking away the thought, he instead focused on the information given to him by his spectral minions. This world did not have adventurers the way that Azeroth did. It was a much more peaceful place. Where would he find ones to raise as Death Knights?
The thought flashed across his mind of just unleashing the Scourge until the whole world was bound in undeath. As always, he forced that thought aside. This was why someone of strong will had been required to be the Lich King. Only someone like himself could resist the call of the Helm of Domination.
Which story should be continued for May?
