Disclaimer: I own nothing but some of the idea for this story, and not much of that. The image cover was taken from google images; if anyone knows who made it please let me know.

So, I had some free time and I couldn't get this story out of my head. This will hopefully be a different take on the Harry getting summoned to Azeroth idea and be rest assured that he won't be going around solving everyone's problems; he will probably cause the people of Azeroth more trouble than anything else. I'm not going to promise this story will be great or anything, but hopefully it will be interesting enough to pass some time if need be.

I do want to say I will be taking a lot of liberties with this story. A lot of wow lore is missing important parts and not well explained, so I will be pulling some stuff out of my ass as I go along. Also, the populations are going to much much large than what they are supposed to be, cause the official population number makes many of the major races practically endangered species. Practically everything is going to be bigger.

Chapter One

"You do realize that you're breaking dozens of ministry laws with this little project of yours," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore says, with a twinkle in his eye.

"And you do realize I could care less about the ministry and its laws," twenty-eight year old Harry Potter replies without looking up from the head sized egg which he is inscribing runes on. "Besides, I'm not doing anything too illegal."

"You're attempting to bind a living creature to your will," the portrait replies dryly. "That alone would have people up in arms should they ever find out."

"So while no one gives a bloody shit about House Elves, despite Hermione's best efforts, they're going to riot because I want a pet dragon."

"Exactly." Dumbledore gives Harry a smile. "So why don't you get a dog? I hear they are wonderful companions, although Minerva does seem to have something against them."

Harry lets out a snort at the thought of Minerva McGonagall owning a dog. "I have to wonder what made me think it was a good idea to have a copy of your portrait in my home; you always try to talk me out of doing anything fun."

"Are you referring to the time you tried to breed together a Unicorn and a Thestral or the time when you tried to learn to fly like Voldemort could by jumping off the Big Ben?"

"Just because those ideas hit a dead end doesn't mean this one will." Harry reaches up and scratches his nose. "Besides, I've already had five prior successes so far."

"I do believe that having prior success on rabbits means very little when you decide to skip straight to dragons afterwards." Albus pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's this kind of recklessness that got you dismissed from the Unspeakables after only two years of work."

"Don't bring up those wankers," Harry says with a scowl. "All I did was make a portkey capable of going to Mars. It's not my fault that idiot Williams decided to test it without telling me; you would think the "geniuses" in the Department of Mysteries would know that you can't breathe on Mars.

A screech from the other side of the room catches the attention of Harry and Dumbledore, who both look over to a large iron cage with an angry Dementor inside.

"You've yet to tell me what you intend to do with that," Dumbledore states.

"That's because I haven't figured it out yet." Harry shrugs his shoulders. "Do you think it would be possible to bind it to me as well?" Harry draws another rune on the dragon egg.

The portrait shakes its painted head in disappointment. "Do you not think controlling the will of a sentient being is going a little too far," Dumbledore asks in return.

Harry gives the painting a pointed look. "How many times must we have this discussion? You know that ever since the Horcrux was removed from my head and I returned from the dead that my morals have been slightly…looser than most."

"You can hardly fault an old man for missing the kind-hearted young man you once were." Dumbledore gives Harry a pointed look of his own.

Harry opens his mouth to give back a smartass reply but, before he can, darkened magic pulses over his form and he finds himself incapable of moving.

"Harry," Dumbledore questions in alarm. "What's going on?"

Unfortunately he doesn't get an answer, as a blackish light envelops Harry and takes him away, leaving behind a concerned portrait, a stolen dragon egg, and a frustrated Dementor.

"You did it wrong," one of the Orc Warlocks says to the other, while they both stare down at the dark haired human male that appeared in their summoning circle. "This is not an Earth Elemental."

The other Orc scratches the side of his head. "It was supposed to summon a powerful being from the Earth, not a measly human. What did I do different than those Dwarves and their Firelord master?"

Harry Potter slowly opens his eyes to find two of the ugliest creature he has ever seen looking down at him. The large monsters have greyish green skin, sharp pointed teeth, and faces that fill children's nightmares.

One of the Orcs, seeing Harry awake, sneers, pulls its leg back, and kicks him in the side with enough force to send Harry sailing across the room. Harry manages to quickly jump back to his feet, draw his wand and send two banishers toward his attackers. One of the Orcs is caught off guard and gets blasted into the rocky wall behind them. The other Orc simply raises a staff and reflects the spell away from him.

"Where am I," Harry asks, as he cautiously watches the creature.

The Orc doesn't reply and instead sends out a wave of black flames toward Harry, who summons Fiendfire to meet the attack head on. The two powerful spells collide and, after a moment of uncertainty, the Fiendfire overcomes the black flames and slams into the Orc.

Harry begins to relax, as he believes the fight is over, but miraculously the Orc appears unharmed when the flames go out. The Orc grins maliciously and begins launching balls of shadowy energy toward Harry, who hastily throws up a shield. The shield holds up, but Harry isn't sure how long it will; the magic the Orc is using is like nothing he has ever encountered before.

Harry drops the shield and dodges the rain of bolts that fly toward him unopposed. He then casts three Killing Curses, towards his attacker, in quick succession. A shield made out of dark light appears around the Orc and, to Harry's extreme shock, it absorbs the spells.

Harry notices the other Orc stirring back into consciousness and quickly fires an Imperious Curse at it. The spell makes contact and, with a little more effort than Harry normally requires, he forces his will over the creature.

Harry then begins casting numerous spells toward the Orc he is fighting. None of them manage to do any damage to it, but their purpose is to just keep the creature occupied. The Imperioused Orc then climbs to its feet and sends a burst of flame straight into the other Orc's back. That Orc, not expecting to be attacked by its comrade, is caught off guard and killed almost instantly.

Once it seems there is not any more immediate danger, Harry takes a better look at his surroundings. He is a small rocky room, most likely in a cave of some sort. The room is empty except for a complex ritual circle on the floor and a large iron door.

"Where am I," Harry asks for a second time.

"Blackrock Mountain," the Orc obediently responds.

Harry frowns at the unfamiliar location and sends a psychic nudge to make the Orc elaborate.

"Blackrock Mountain," the Orc continues. "Located between Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge, in the center of the Eastern Kingdoms, on the planet of Azeroth."

Harry frowns in thought at the Orc's words, but he doesn't have time to dwell on them as the sounds of people approaching the room reaches his ears.

Harry barely manages to Disillusion himself before two Orcs garbed in metal armor barge in through the door. The Orcs glance down at the burned body of the dead Orc, but they don't seem to be very concerned.

"What happened?" One of the newly arrived Orcs looks toward Harry's Imperioused puppet.

"Accident," the mind-controlled Orc says, after a prodding from Harry. "Messed up a summoning."

The new arrivals give matching savage grins. "Stupid warlocks," one says, as it gives a kick to the burnt body.

The two Orcs turn to leave, not caring that one of their comrades had apparently just met a gruesome death, when one of them catches sight of a slight ripple in Harry's Disillusionment spell. That Orc walks over near Harry and squints his eyes in an effort to see what caught his attention.

Harry, knowing there is a good chance he is going to be discovered, raises his wand and fires a Killing Curse right into the Orc's face. A cutting curse then slashes through the other Orc's neck before it has time to react.

Harry then takes the time to cover himself in complete invisibility, as well as masking his scent and sounds.

"Show me the way out of here," Harry commands the Orc, who obediently follows the command.

The Orc leads Harry out of the room and into a long rocky hall. It seems Harry's first impression of being in a cave is true.

"Those were some impressive pieces of magic," a voice echoes through the tunnel.

Harry stiffens in surprise and twists around looking for the source of the voice. "Show yourself," Harry demands, as he stays poised to move on a second's notice.

"No need to be so high strung." A tall, strong looking middle aged man appears as some type of invisibility spell appears to melt off of him. "If I wished you ill will, I would have already put you down."

The man's words have very little effect, but the amount of power that Harry can feel flowing from this man does. This man is easily the most powerful being that Harry has ever encountered, or even imagined encountering. So it is with the knowledge that this being could crush him with hardly a thought that Harry lowers his wand and decides to see what he has to say.

"Smart decision, mortal." The man glances at the Orc and effortlessly breaks the hold that Harry's Imperious curse has on it. The Orc, recognizing the man, falls down to the ground in a groveling bow. "Leave my sight," he orders the Orc, which hurriedly stands and runs away in obedience.

"The dog seems well trained," Harry comments to the powerful man. "Name is Harry, by the way."

"I am Nefarian, or as I am called in this human form, Lord Victor Nefarius," he declares his identity with more than a little bit of pride. "I am the son of Deathwing, the leader of the Black Dragon Flight, Master of the Blackrock Clan, and Lord of Blackrock Spire."

"Well Nefarian, if you wouldn't mind showing me the exit, I'll get out of your hair," Harry casually says as he uses his magic to feel out the protections around the mountain. What he feels is unlike any type of wards he has dealt with before, but he can at least tell that trying to apparate out would be a very bad idea.

Nefarian gets an amused look on his face. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you leave do you?"

"Oh," Harry says as he tries to figure out the best way to try to escape.

"I felt your power the moment my Orcs summoned you. So no I'm not letting you leave, instead I want you serve me; I have the feeling you would be a capable ally to have."

"And if I refuse," Harry questions.

"Then I'll kill you," Nefarian simply states.

Harry forces himself to relax and to put on a convincing face. Hopefully it won't be too difficult to pretend to go along with this guy and then simply escape when an opportunity arises. "What would I get out of this?"

"Besides your life?" The humor in his voice is easily heard. "We both know you wouldn't stand a chance against my might."

"Touché," Harry says after he pretends to think it over for a few moments. "It seems I don't have much of a choice."

Nefarian gives a pleased smile and stretches out his hand. "Then we have an agreement."

"I suppose we do," Harry replies as he clasps the man's outstretched hand.

The moment their hands meet a black mist seeps out of Nefarian's hand and into Harry. Harry jumps back in surprise but the mist continues forward until it has all seeped into his skin.

"What did you do?" Harry eyes are filled with anger as he looks to the man.

Nefarian gives a large smile. "I bound your will to me; the magic required you to agree to serve me of your own free will before it would work."

Actual fear starts to creep into Harry's bones as he feels the dark magic wrap itself around his being, similar to an unbreakable vow but vastly more powerful.

"Now come, we have much to do," Nefarian says as he begins to walk down the hall.

Harry's feet begin moving before he even has time to consider the order.

"So, you do know that everything that happens on this planet seems to be fucked up," Harry tells Solakar, a Dragonspawn of the Black Dragon Flight.

The lower bodies of Dragonspawn are much like dragons, a scaled hide with four legs and a tail. They have humanoid torsos with long, thick arms, and scaled, draconic heads. Their hides and draconic features are the color of their patron flight, in this case black.

Solakar is in charge of the rookery in the upper portion of Blackrock Spire, the home of a portion of the Black Flight of Dragons. Since Solakar has experience dealing with infants, Nefarian seemed to believe that he would be the best to educate Harry on the history of Azeroth, the five Dragon Flights, and what he will need to know to survive in this world long enough to be useful to the Black Dragons. Solakar has just finished relaying the Black Flight's information on the Lich King to Harry.

"The world of Azeroth has an extensive history," Solakar tells him. "That greatly increases the chances of its past containing something that would be, by your definition, "fucked up"."

Harry has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the creature's words. Most of the Dragonspawn he has met, over the four months he has spent on Azeroth, like to take things extremely serious.

"Still, you have to admit that an army of undead rampaging across the continent isn't something you hear about every day." Harry takes a bite of an apple he seems to pull from thin air.

Solakar takes note of the quick appearance of the apple. "You have become very efficient at creating food. Most mages require many seconds of focus to create sustenance."

Conjuring food is one of the few of this world's spells that Harry has learned so far. The mages of Azeroth draw the power for their spells from the world around them, instead of from an internal magical core like the wizards of Earth. Harry has found this to be an interesting change of pace from his main spell repertoire and that the spells also seem to be quite a bit harder to master than the ones that use his internal magic.

"Conjuring food was considered an impossibility on my world." Harry takes another bite of his apple. "When I discovered there was a way to do so here, I was motivated to make sure I was good at it."

Solakar glances over at Harry. "It is time to feed the whelps."

Harry smiles at this. While so far Nefarian has had Harry doing mostly menial things with his extremely versatile magic, this is a job that Harry genuinely enjoys.

Harry nods and apparates, as Nefarian keyed him into the magics preventing him from doing so, up to the rookery, which contains over thirty eggs. As soon he appears, ten Black whelps immediately rush up to Harry in an effort to be petted, in which he obliges them.

A large percentage of dragon eggs die before they even hatch, and those rarely make it to adulthood for various reasons. All the Dragon Flights have a slight survival of the fittest mentality, most likely a leftover instinct of their reptilian nature, but the Black Flight really takes it to a whole new level. Harry has personally taken it upon himself to ensure as many of the little dragons survive as possible.

"Calm down, calm down," Harry says with a laugh as he tries to push little monsters away.

Black Dragon whelps are the definition of affection starved, so when Harry took a liking to them they quickly began competing for his attention.

Harry gives a wave of his hand, he really likes that this new type of magic is wandless friendly, and conjures dozens of large slabs of meat. The whelps don't hesitate to abandon their attempts at being petted and rush over to their dinner.

Harry grins again and then apparates even higher up the mountain, almost to the top. He reappears in another rookery, although this one is much smaller and only four whelps are here to greet him. These whelps are one of Nefarian's experiments; he calls them Chromatic Dragons.

The Chromatic Dragons are created by using blood from all five Dragon Flights. This gives them qualities and abilities from all the flights. They are mostly a dark magenta color while the inside of their wings are a dark blue.

"Har'ri," A large Chromatic Drakonid approaches Harry.

Drakonids are extremely large creatures that seem to be a mixture of a humanoid and a dragon. Like the Dragonspawn, they serve their respective flights and normally sport those colors. This Drakonid is one of the only two Chromatic ones created so far.

Harry doesn't even blink at the way the Drakonid pronounces his name. Many of Nefarian's followers would mistakenly pronounce it that way, and it seemed to stick. Even Harry has taken to introducing himself that way.

"Hello, Malkar," Harry greets the hulking form of the Drakonid that watches over the Chromatic whelps and eggs. "How are you today?"

"I am well," Malkar rumbles. "Master Nefarian wishes to speak with you."

Harry sighs as he absent mindedly pets the Chromatic whelps. "Thank you for letting me know."

The Drakonid nods and moves to stand back over against the wall.

Once again Harry waves his hands and huge slabs of meat appear for the small dragons to eat on.

With the whelps now fed, Harry spins on his heel and reappears in Nefarian's throne room, which the man is sitting upon. If you can even call him a man; Harry was pretty wowed when he discovered that Nefarian was literally a giant talking wyrm dragon just in human form.

"Lord Nefarian," Harry greets the son of Deathwing and ruler of Blackrock Spire.

"I have an assignment for you," Nefarian simply says.

Harry grimaces at those words. So far the assignments Nefarian has assigned him have been mind-numbing; the last thing he had to do was enchant a couple dozen trunks with the expansion charm and organize Nefarian's many treasures.

"An Alliance party has set up a base camp in Burning Steppes, not far from the mountain, and has been performing attacks on our members," Nefarian explains. "I want you to destroy the camp in whatever way you see fit."

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Am I going alone?"

"Not quite," Nefarian says. "Come." He gets up from his throne and goes through a small door on the side of the room.

Harry follows after him and they come out upon a balcony at the top of the mountain.

"This is Kerran; he will act as your mount." Nefarian gestures toward a saddled Black Dragon. "The camp you shall be assaulting is comprised mostly of pitiful soldiers, but our information tells us that it is being led by a fairly powerful Paladin."

"I guess I'll get going then." Harry wishes he had more time to prepare for his first real assignment, but he goes ahead and climbs onto the dragon's back without complaint anyways.

"Har'ri, you may keep any spoils you happen to bring back with you," Nefarian tells him. "And try not to die; you won't be very useful to me like that."

"I'll do my best," Harry dryly replies.

The dragon, Kerran, launches off the balcony and shoots through the sky at a great speed. Harry has to struggle not to fall off the beast.

"We will be there soon," Kerran rumbles over the wind, several minutes after they take off.

Harry twitches a little at the dragon's voice. The drakes and whelps, which he has the most contact with, generally don't learn to speak English, or common as they call it in Azeroth, until they're older. So, it still throws him for a loop when he hears the older dragons talk the language.

Harry notices the fast approaching Alliance base; there are three griffin riders flying high above the camp. "I assume you will have no problem dealing with the riders," he asks Kerran.

The dragon snorts out a puff of smoke and bares its teeth. Harry takes that at as a yes.

As soon as Kerran is overtop the base, Harry slides off the dragon and falls through the sky at high speeds. Right before he smacks into the ground, he uses a spell called Slow Fall that instantly slows his decent down as if he was a floating feather.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he sends a Killing Curse into the nearest guard, who instantly falls dead. With his free hand he uses one of the newest things he has learned to do, and sends a wave of fire flying out. The fire sets dozens of tents on fire, and judging by the screams the tents weren't empty.

The Alliance members, suddenly realizing they're being attacked, rush out to meet Harry. They have their weapons drawn but don't yet move forward to strike. Then a large man in blue and silver armor steps forward from the crowd.

"Why have you attacked us," the large man asks in a booming voice. He glances up at the dragon, which has a griffin crushed in its teeth. "And why do you do so with a Black Dragon."

A golden aura starts to shine around the man, and Harry correctly assumes that this man is the Paladin Nefarian mentioned. He can feel the Holy power radiating of the man, and while it doesn't cause him any pain, it does cause an uncomfortably itching to crawl over his skin.

"I've never met a Paladin before," Harry states. Paladins aren't the type of people to hangout around Blackrock Mountain.

"Then I will be the first." The Paladin grips a large mace hanging on his hip. "And last, that you shall meet."

Harry gives a wave of his wand and a dozen stone wolves rise up out of the ground. The wolves immediately jump into attacking the thirty or so soldiers in the camp.

"So we aren't interrupted," Harry says to the Paladin, as one of his wolves rips out the throat of a soldier.

An angry expression appears on the Paladin's face as he raises his weapon and charges toward Harry. "The Light will clean your filth off the face of Azeroth."

In reply, Harry sends a Killing Curse sailing into the Paladin's path, but the spell is absorbed by a glowing golden shield. This causes Harry to scowl irritably, as it seems everyone and their mother has a way to block his supposedly unblockable spell.

The Paladin, which has closed the distance between him and Harry inhumanly fast, swings his mace over his head and down where Harry was standing. Harry apparated away and reappeared a couple dozen feet to the right.

"Quite the swing you've got there," Harry says in amusement, as he gazes at the small crater the paladin made in the dirt with his strike.

Harry starts banishing boulders at the man, but the Paladin either vaporizes them with a blast of his Holy power or a swing of his weapon. Harry then conjures a large floating warhammer, which proceeds to follow the movements of his wand. A large wave of his wand causes the hammer to swing through the air at the Paladin, who proceeds to parry the strikes with his mace.

A golden lance of energy streaks across the field and slams into Harry's hastily created shield, which buckles but manages to hold. Another lance is fired, but Harry apparates a foot in front of the Paladin and slams his fist into the man's face. Harry apparates away with a smile as he hears the satisfying crunch of a broken nose.

The conjured wolves, of which three remain, have either killed or crippled the rest of the soldier. They now turn their attention to the Paladin and attack. The Paladin, even with his bloody and broken nose, twirls toward the constructs and blasts two of them with Holy Light, which causes them to turn to dust. He then breaks the last wolf in half with a slam of his mace.

The Paladin tries to turn back to face Harry but, before he can, the large warhammer smacks into the side of his skull with so much force that his neck snaps with a crack and his head is twisted all the way around.

"Sorry mate," Harry says to the shocked look on the dead man's face, which is kind of weird to do since his body is lying stomach down on the ground. "It wasn't personal."

Harry reaches down and picks up the Paladin's weapon. It grows uncomfortably warm in his hand, and he definitely wouldn't trust using it in a fight. He then conjures a sack, casts an expansion charm on the inside, and begins looting the Paladin, soldiers, and camp of anything of value.

Harry notices that two of the soldiers seem to still be alive, at least until they bleed out from their many wounds.

"I have an offer for you both," Harry says as he approaches the downed soldiers. "It's quite simple. Serve me and live, or don't and die."

One of the soldiers snarls and spits blood on Harry's boots. In return Harry raises his wand and slits the man's throat.

"What about you?" Harry looks at the other soldier.

"Okay," the soldier says after a few seconds.

Harry is a little surprised at the sound of the voice; he wasn't expecting the soldier to be a woman under that helmet. "We have a deal then." Harry reaches his hand down toward her.

The woman is hesitant for a few seconds before she reaches up and grasps Harry's hand. When she does, black mist seeps out of his hand and seeps into the soldier's skin, bounding her will to Harry's.

The woman jerks her hand back in surprise. "What did you do to me?"

Harry smiles triumphantly. He has only bound one other person to him and then it took four separate tries to replicate the magic that Nefarian used on him; this time it worked first try. "Bound your will to mine," Harry says cheerfully.

He crouches down and places his wand against the soldier's leg, which is bent at a very odd angle and obviously broken. The wand's tip glows bright and the leg snaps back into place.

"What's your name," Harry asks.

"Clara Barcurl," Harry's new minion answers, as she climbs to her feet and tests her leg. "Who are you?" She glances up at the dragon that's still flying around overhead. "Or what are you?"

Harry lets out a laugh. "I'm Har'ri, and no, I'm not another one of those giant flying lizards." He gives her an appraising look. "You seem to be taking being magically bound to the guy that just slaughtered your entire camp rather well."

She pulls her helmet off her head, allowing long dirty blond hair to fall down her shoulders. "I've never been one to bitch about things I can't do anything about." She directs a scowl at Harry.

Harry, unperturbed by her glare, returns to scavenging the useful things around the camp. "So, just out of curiosity, what the hell is the Alliance doing setting up a camp here in the middle of bloody nowhere?"

"We were meant to set up a beachhead in the region," Clara obediently replies.

Harry laughs. "Whose great idea was that? With only about forty soldiers, they had to know that either the dragons or the Firelord's servants would take them out."

She glances over at the dead Paladin, who Harry has already stripped the armor off of. "That Paladin you killed was Alestrain Bray, a Knight of the Silver Hand. It was believed that he would be able to deal with the hostiles in the area until reinforcements was sent."

"It seems they were mistaken," Harry says in amusement.

Harry places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can. This catches the attention of Kerran, who quickly flies down and lands next to them.

"Who is this?" The dragon bares his teeth at Clara.

Harry crosses his arms. "Nefarian said I could keep whatever I bring back with me." He stares down the dragon.

The dragon snorts, but crouches down so they can climb on board. Harry hops up onto the saddle and then offers his hand to Carla, who warily keeps an eye on Kerran as she lets Harry help her up. Harry then casts Fiendfire to destroy the remains of the camp.

"I suggest you hold on," Harry says to the girl pressed up against his back.

Kerran uses his powerful limbs to push off the ground and straight up into the sky; Carla's arms quickly wrap themselves tightly around Harry's waist to prevent herself from falling off. They soar through the sky and cross at least twenty miles in about thirteen minutes. Kerran lands on the same balcony that they originally left from and Harry and Clara both climb off.

Harry leads Clara off the balcony and into the throne room, where Nefarian is sitting on his throne.

"I see you've picked up a stray." Nefarian looks at Clara in amusement. "I do hope it's house trained."

Harry lips quirk up in a smile. "If having good personal hygiene was a requirement to live here, then I think there's about forty thousand Orcs in this mountain that will need to move."

Harry and Nefarian have developed an odd relationship over the last four months. While they wouldn't call the other a friend, as Nefarian did trick Harry into being bound to him, they do have a rather positive working relationship.

Nefarian laughs at Harry's words. "I assume your assault was a success?"

"There's nothing left but ashes and the spoils." Harry holds up his bag of stolen goods. "And Clara here." He motions toward the girl, who has been smartly standing slightly back and to his side with her head down.

Nefarian hums. "You may leave me then and return to your duties." He waves his hand in a dismissal.

Harry nods his head and leads Clara out of the throne room and into the hall.

"What are you planning to do with me," Clara asks as they walk.

Harry is able to hear some worry in her voice; he guesses that the tough visage she's been projecting is starting to wear thin. He is able to guess what her biggest worry probably is.

"I'm not going to rape you, if that's what you're asking," Harry pats her on the head like you would a dog. "Besides, we've got a couple thousand slaves in this mountain that are more than willing to warm my bed if it meant it got them out of their cages."

She slightly relaxes. "What am I here for then," she presses on.

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "Not really sure." He flicks some lint off his shoulder. "Keeping you was sort of a spur of the moment thing." Harry's eyes suddenly light up. "How good are you with that sword on your hip?"

She glances down at the weapon. "I'm good," she answers.

"Great; I'm shit with a sword and in need of a teacher." Harry leads them down another hall.

Clara is glancing around at the well-constructed fortress which is Blackrock spire. "I'm can't believe this is what the inside of Blackrock really looks like."

Harry glances over at her. "What do you know about Blackrock's history?"

"Not much," she admits. "I know that it was built by Dwarves, that the lower portion is controlled by elementals and that the upper portion is controlled by dragons."

"It was built by the Dark-Iron Dwarves centuries ago to serve as a symbol of their power, and they controlled it uncontentested until they declared war on the other two largest Dwarven clans, the Wildhammer and Bronzebeard clans." Harry smiles, as he is happy to actually be telling the history instead of listening about it from Solakar. "The war didn't go quite the way the Dark-Iron clan had hoped, so when the combined forces of their enemies marched on the mountain, they desperately attempted to summon a great power locked under the mountain. Their summons awoke the Firelord Elemental Ragnaros. It was his awakening that caused the decimation of Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge. Ragnaros, instead of helping the Dwarves, enslaved the Dark-iron clan and took control of their capitol."

"Where do the dragons come in," Clara asks, as she hangs onto the words of Harry's tale.

"During the First War, when the Orcs first stepped foot on Azeroth, the Horde led an assault against the mountain and took control of the Spire, which is the part above ground, from the Dwarves," Harry continues. "They used this as their base of operations for most of the war, but after the Alliance's assault on the place decimated their numbers and captured their chieftain, the remaining forces were unable to hold back the Dwarves and elementals living in the depths of the mountain. Because of this, Rend Blackhand, the one who took control of the remaining members of the Horde here, made a deal with Nefarian. I'm not completely clear on the details of what that deal included, but a small portion of the Black Dragon Flight moved in, took control of the Spire, and Blackhand's followers declared swore allegiance to the Black flight and named themselves as the Dark Horde. To this day the forces under the control Nefarian and the forces of Ragnaros compete for control of the mountain."

"And how did you end up here?" She looks at Harry questioningly.

"Same way as you," Harry says with a chuckle. "Nefarian tricked me, and I found myself bound to him like you're bound to me."

"So when you attacked my camp, it was because you had to," Clara asks him.

Harry glances at her. "If you're trying to justify my actions, don't bother. My morals are rather skewed compared to most; for example, I feel no guilt whatsoever over my actions against your camp." Harry stops at a pitch black metal door at the end of the hall. "My suite is through here," he says as he pushes the door open and they walk inside.

"Har'ri," a voice mumbles. "Are you ready for another round?"

Harry and Clara both turn toward the crimson colored bed in the center of the very large room. A long bare leg sticks out of the silken sheets and long hair so blond it's almost white lay splayed across the pillows.

"Clara, this is Feytara Amberstar," Harry introduces, as he motions toward the half asleep woman in his bed, who is the only other person whose will he has bound to his own. "Fey, don't tell me you've been in bed since I left you this morning."

Feytara rolls over, knocking the sheets off her nude body as she does, and arches her back as she stretches the kinks out of her body. Completely unconcerned with her state of dress, she slides out of the bed, walks up to Harry, and pulls his head down for a searing kiss.

She pulls back from the kiss and glances over at Clara. "Who's you're new friend," she asks Harry.

Harry's eyes, which had lost focus during the kiss, zeros in on Clara's blushing face. "This is Clara Barcurl, a member of the Alliance that I decided to keep."

Feytara gives Clara a sultry look before turning back to Harry. "I'll be in the bath; you're both welcome to join me." She sways her hips enticingly as she crosses the floor and enters a side room.

"Where did you find a High Elf," Clara asks, still with a blush.

"Don't let her hear you call her that." Harry lets out a laugh. "They're "Blood" Elves now, she says," he continues. "I found her locked in one of our cells when I was looking for a Mage tutor, and she happened to be a Mage."

Clara glances toward the room Feytara went into. "I get the feeling she teaches you more than magic."

"Trust me," Harry says with a shit eating grin. "Everything we do is magic."

"I'm sure," she dryly responds.

"So, do you want your own room," Harry walks up to an empty wall and looks at it. "Or you're welcome to join Fey and I in ours." Harry throws a wink over his shoulder.

Clara looks rather surprised at question. "I would really appreciate my own room."

Harry nods draws his wand. A light shoots out and hits the wall, which causes and opening to form in the wall that grows backwards until a full sized room is formed. A wave of his wand conjures a wooden desk, chair, dresser, chest, and a large bed; the furniture is decorated in white and dark green.

He turns around to see Clara's amazed expression as she takes in the room.

"I've never even stood in a bedroom so nice," she says in awe. "This is a room that belongs to royalty."

"I take care of what's mine," Harry says with a shrug. "And whether you like it or not, you belong to me now."

Clara is unsure whether to feel flattered or offended by that statement. "How did you do this," she questions. "I've never seen magic do anything even close to something like this room."

"In addition to the magics that you're familiar with, I'm also capable of a type of magic no one else on this world can perform," he explains. "It's the reason Nefarian has taken such an interest in me and pretty much gives me free rein to do whatever I want."

"Thank you," Clara suddenly says.

Harry gives her a confused look. "Don't forget, I did practically tie your free will to a leash."

"I know that," she snaps. "But I realize that I could have ended up dead or far worse." She waves her hands around the room. "And if this room and the satisfied looking elf is any indication, there's a good chance I'll enjoy being your pet," she finishes with a blush crawling up her neck and to her cheeks.

Harry slightly chuckles at her words. "I'd give it a few weeks before you make a judgment on that." He flashes her a smile. "You welcome to go in any unlocked rooms, just try not to leave my suite. Some of the things living in this mountain would find you to be a tasty snack."

"Where are you going," she asks as Harry starts walking out the newly formed room.

"To join Fey in the bath," Harry says with a mischievous smile. "You want to come along?"

Clara has to remind herself that this man just slaughtered her entire camp less than a few hours ago. "I think I'll pass this time."

Harry's smile gets even wider, not that Clara can figure out why. "This time," Harry repeats with a laugh as he leaves the room.

Clara frustratedly growls in her throat and heads to her new bed.

I'm hoping this will be a fresh take on a Harry Potter / Warcraft crossover. If you want, drop a review and let me know what you think.