The Green Skin
A pillar of flames burst to life, whirling in heatless blue. It only lasted a few moments before fading away, revealing…
A huge figure, broad shouldered, muscular and over six feet tall, adorned in a leather robe with a necklace of some type of large red beads. Long dark hair had been bound into a pair of braids that draped on either side of his chest. Leather bracers wrapped in what appeared to be chains adorned his wrists. The outfit reminded Dumbledore of the stories he had heard of the ancient druids. However, what stood out the most about the stranger was that they had green skin and tusks! Small tusks, but still, that was quite out of the norm.
Suddenly a shout rang out from among the students. “Troll!” The rest of the students began to scramble out of the benches towards the doors to the Great Hall. A few brave souls, mostly those from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, as well as a select few of the older Hogwarts crew, had their wands pulled and leveled towards the new arrival, though no spells were cast.
At least not from them.
Severus whipped his wand at the stranger, a cutting curse flashing through the air, only to crash into a metal shield that Dumbledore would have sworn hadn’t been on the creature's arm a moment before. Same with the large hammer that was in the other hand. However, rather than moving to attack or defend itself, the figure backed away, while keeping its green eyes moving between the faculty and the watching students.
As the Potions Master readied another spell, a large wooden post seemingly etched with runes crashing to the ground near the stranger’s feet. The spell zoomed off course, crashing into the post with seemingly no effect. Meanwhile, the stranger was muttering under its breath, though not in any language the Headmaster could identify.
For several moments Severus cast spells at the stranger, only for them to go awry, veering into the post time and again. Only after he cast what appeared to be an overpowered blasting curse directly at the post did the thing explode, showering the room with wooden splinters. Fortunately most of the students had already abandoned the room by that time, except for those keeping the stranger under wandpoint. Those students summoned shields to protect them from the wooden shrapnel.
Albus watched the sneer on Severus' face grow darker as his spells were defeated. The Headmaster thought about stopping the man from attacking, but so far nothing truly lethal had been used, save for the blasting curse, and perhaps answers could be found when the creature was unconscious.
Suddenly, another massive post slammed into the floor, this one several feet wide, over half a dozen feet tall, and appearing to be made of stone. From the other side of the post, the creature raised its head and bellowed. “By the Spirits, enough! I mean you no harm!”
Dumbledore didn’t let the shock of the deep voice speaking English distract him from stopping the Potions Master with a wave of his own wand. “Severus, enough. The creature has attacked no one and has sought only to defend itself.”
Severus turned an unapologetic look on the Headmaster before scowling, though he did lower his wand. “That creature is a danger. That it speaks makes it only more dangerous.”
The stranger scowled. “That creature has a name. I am called Harpor, son of Thrall. The Spirits have aided me in speaking your language, though it was close enough to the common tongue that I do not need as much help as I had feared.”
Albus looked over at the newly identified Harpor. Though the voice was deep as one would expect from a being of that size, there was a youthful quality to it that spoke of less years on earth than would be readily apparent. Dumbledore decided to proceed as he would with any of his students. “Forgive us, young man. Your appearance was startling, especially given how you arrived. Most come through the front gates rather than a pillar of fire.”
Harper nodded slowly. “The pillar of fire is a new one for me as well, honored elder.” The hammer was hooked onto a wide belt that cinched closed the leather robe. The shield however, was not lowered. “You appear to be human, though not a member of the Alliance, given the difference in language.”
The Headmaster blinked. “We appear human, for we are human. What else could we be? For that matter, young one, what are you? While you are not a troll as some unfortunate shouted out, I am afraid I do not recognize your species.”
“A troll? Hah. As if. Though Vol’jin would get a kick out of that. I am an Orc of Ogrimarr. Where is this place? Am I in the Eastern Kingdoms or one of the island nations?”
Albus shook his head. “I’m not familiar with the orc race, outside of literature that is. I have to say, you are not as they described. As for where you are, you are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though I cannot say I have heard of the Eastern Kingdoms, unless you are referring to the nations of Orient. Where is this Ogrimarr?”
The young orc frowned, a sight made more ominous with the way those tusks tugged at his lips. “Ogrimarr is on Kalimdor and is the capital of the Horde. I thought that was standard knowledge among the human nations by now. Wait, were you one of the nations of Draenor? Northrend?”
Each name only further convinced the Headmaster that the young orc was from further afield than originally thought. “Perhaps we should all sit down rather than stand with a pillar of stone between us. Severus has put up his wand, as have the other faculty and students. Will you also put away your pillar so that we may have a more cordial conversation?”
Harpor slowly nodded. “Very well. I shall dismiss my totem.” With a wave of the hand, the stone totem shimmered and vanished. Not even a half moment later and a spell flashed out, smashing into an imposed shield. Before Albus could admonish Severus for the uncalled for attack, the orc waved his hammer and a lightning bolt briefly connected the two before Snape was sent flying across the room to crash and writhe across the floor.
Albus had his wand out and a protego maxima separating the groups, even though no other professor drew their wand and no more attacks were forthcoming from the orc. “Enough! Everyone, stand down.”
Poppy was out of her seat and across the room, waving her wand over a twitching potions master. “Albus, it’s like he was struck by lightning. I can have him up and about with a few potions, but they’re in the medical wing.”
The Headmaster nodded. “Do what you need to. I’ll take young Harpor, along with the Heads of House to my office where we can have a more peaceful conversation.”
Turning away from Poppy, Dumbledore looked to the other side of his shield spell, where the aforementioned Harpor was watching the proceedings from behind his metal shield. That the young orc had made no other hostile motion spoke well for keeping things calm.
“Come, let us all head down to my office and talk.”
***
Harpor had taken one look at the tiny chairs in the Headmaster’s office and decided to remain standing, arms folded across his chest. He had stored his shield, while the hammer remained on his belt for quicker access should he need to defend himself. The four humans had arrayed themselves around the room, with the oldest one behind the desk and the three others each taking a chair. How the largest one was able to sit comfortably on that tiny chair was a mystery.
Thanking the local spirits for allowing him to communicate, he began a dialog with the one who had eventually identified himself as Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wasn’t that a mouthful of a title. Very much like Scholomance, School of Necromancy, back in the Eastern Kingdoms. A pretentious title, but one that had been well earned before the school had fallen into ruin.
Now Harpor found himself in a strange school in a strange land surrounded by a strange people. The conversation with the Headmaster led him to believe that he was not anywhere on Azeroth, which was corroborated by the local spirits, which felt different than the ones back home. They were more lethargic and took more convincing, though they seemed every bit as power as the ones he dealt with on Kalimdor.
The consensus that the group had come to was that the Goblet of Fire had somehow summoned him from his home, though they did not know why. Albus then let slip that the Goblet would have formed a contract with him upon his summoning, one that bound him to compete in some sort of tournament on threat of losing his magic. While he wasn’t afraid of having to live his life without magic, he had worked hard to learn his skills, as well as enjoying the time spent communing with the elements. Not to mention how he had been able to bond with his adopted father over their shared abilities.
Mentally shaking away the thought of his father, who was far away and unable to help at the moment, Harpor focused on the current situation. “So I’m the only orc on your entire planet? That seems so strange to me, considering that my people inhabit three separate worlds at the moment with the possibility of more as our magics continue to explore the nether.”
Albus leaned back in his chair, looking at Harpor over those tiny glasses. “I find it fascinating that you can talk so freely of travel between worlds. While travel between locations is especially easy with magic, and even the muggles have methods of swiftly moving from place to place. Yet it would appear that you are stuck here for the moment, at least until we discover what happened to bring you here. If you would be up for an exchange, I would be willing to house you at the castle for the duration of the tournament, since you are bound to compete.”
The three other humans seemed to look at the Headmaster with different levels of disbelief. Harpor chose to focus on the Headmaster’s offer. “And what would be the cost of my housing? I doubt I have any of your local currency, unless you take gold coins.”
Off to the side, the shortest of the humans nodded excitedly. “The Goblins would be happy to exchange your gold for galleons.”
Harpor’s gaze snapped to the small man. “You have Goblins here but you do not have Orcs? What a strange world.”
The short man smiled. “I would love to exchange notes on the differences between our worlds.” He glanced at the Headmaster then coughed into his hand, before hopping from his chair and walking over, holding out his other hand. “Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor.”
Harpor reached out and carefully clasped forearms with the man. “Harpor, son of Thrall. Shaman.”
That exchange inspired the other two to introduce themselves as Minerva McGonnagall, Transfiguration Professor, and Pamona Sprout, Herbology Professor. That exchange led to another quick discussion of the differences between their worlds and types of magic. When offered a practice wand, it became readily apparent that Harpor had the potential to learn wizard magic. An offer was made to have him learn the magic of Hogwarts in exchange to teaching the four Heads of House, which included the absent Potions Professor.
The young orc provisionally accepted the offer, dependant upon having Severus Snape modify his behavior. Any more attacks would be met with escalating force. Rather than just a lightning bolt, there would be more fiery defensive measures. While the Headmaster did not look pleased with that last proviso, he accepted on the absent man’s behalf.
“Albus, would it be possible for me to be led to an inn where I can stay while I learn? If not, a convenient forest would be acceptable.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “While we do have an inn in Hogsmeade, the local village, it would be more beneficial to you to stay in the castle. We have a number of Guest Suites and I will have one of the house elves direct you.”
“Elves? Blood Elves or night elves? Are you sure you’re not from my world?”
The Headmaster shook his head, even as Filius seemed to quiver in his chair. “Just house elves, my boy. I’ve never heard them referred to as blood or night elves, though they do operate at night. No, I see that isn’t what you meant. It shall have to be one of those things we learn more about from each other.”
Turning to midair, the man spoke out. “Can I get a Hogwarts’ elf, please?”
A tiny creature with long ears and wearing some type of rumpled pillow case appeared with a pop of displaced air. “You is calling for an elf, Professor sir?”
Harpor stared at the short creature standing before him. This was what they called an elf? Yeah, sure it had long ears, compared to the humans, but the thing was tiny. No self respecting elf, high elf or others, would ever appear that way in front of others. Just another way the two worlds were different. How different would the Goblins be? Were they even into business in this world?
Albus offered the house elf a small smile. “This man is Harpor. He will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Please show him a room when we are done with our conversation here.”
The elf looked between the Headmaster and Harpor then nodded vigorously. “Of course, Headmaster sir. Just calls for an elfs when you be ready.” Then with another pop of air, the elf disappeared.
Harpor looked at where the elf had stood and sighed. Something to worry about later. Maybe he could plump the depths of elven knowledge.
“Is there anything else we need to discuss? It’s been a trying day and I could use the rest before we continue.”
The Headmaster nodded, then waved to his three companions. “I believe we are done for now, though perhaps one or more of us could call on you after you get settled in. I didn’t see anything that needs our discussing it.”
Harpor nodded and after pleasantries, followed the House Elf out of the Headmaster’s office and down several hallways. The elf was eager to speak and he was able to learn much about Hogwarts, the Headmaster, and the other faculty. They even talked about the school itself and how wonderful it was that all the elves got to serve there. That led to a discussion on what exactly elves got out of helping humans.
The conversation then led to where Harpor might go to find a place to exercise, as he was used to waking up early to train with his father. The elf happily described a room that could cater to the needs of the user, called the Come and Go Room. He promised to go in search of the room at the first possibility.
Eventually they reached the guest room and Harpor thanked the elf, who blubbered out something that he couldn’t understand, then disappeared with the now familiar pop of air.
Harpor looked around the guest suite and grunted in appreciation. The room was modestly decorated, though with a subtle opulence that was more felt than seen. After looking around and making sure he was alone, he pulled out a communication crystal and tried to connect to his father. For a brief moment an image of Thrall’s head appeared in the air above the crystal, before fuzzing and shattered. With a sigh, he put away the crystal, then made his way to the restroom with its massive mirror.
Looking into the mirror, Harpor raised his hands, palm inwards, and slowly drew that gaze over his head, staring at his hairline. Slowly, the green faded from his skin, leaving it just a tan as the local humans, though his hair stayed the same. He shrank slightly, though still had broad shoulders and a generally muscular build. Even his fangs shrank until he just had his normal fangs.
Reaching up, he ran a hand through the loose strands over his forehead, catching sight of the slight scar that had once held a disembodied spirit. It was learning about that spirit that had inspired him to ask to learn shamanism from his father.
It had been many years since he’d last seen this face, his human face. Ever since he had learned how from one of the orc mages, he had maintained the transformation, to better fit in among his people, as well as to gain a better understanding of the orcs and other members of the Horde.
Was it time to finally let his original body be seen, now that he was among the humans? He would have to think about it. Before he could make a decision, he felt the magical alert that someone was trying to reach him on his communication crystal. Pulling it out of his inventory, he eagerly made the connection.
The head of his father showed up, the older orc sharing a look and hairstyle with Harpor’s orc form. It was only at seeing the surprised look on Thrall’s face that he remembered he was in his original human form. Before either could say anything, the connection broke again, this time with a pop.
Harpor frowned and tried to reconnect, but the crystal refused to respond to him anymore at that point. With a sigh, he reverted his look back to the form he had adopted to more easily blend in with the orcs and members of the Horde. That was the form he was more comfortable in, as he had spent more time as an orc than he had as a human.
Making his way to the bedroom, he took some time to meditate and commune with the local spirits. After ensuring that the door was locked with a simple cantrip, he went to bed. Time enough to learn more in the morning.
***
Harpor woke up with one of the house elves hovering near his bed. Since the spirits had not warned him of the creature, he supposed it held no ill intent towards him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he nodded to the elf (and boy were the Blood Elves going to get a kick out of that when he told them). “Morning, little one. How can I help you?”
The elf seemed to quiver for a moment before nodding quickly. “Professor Flitwick be wondering if he could join you for breakfast in your quarters.”
Theyoung orc searched his memory for a moment before putting a face to the name. The Charms Professor and shortest of the bunch. He had given off a feeling of being of mixed blood. In a group that seemed to consist only of humans, that could have several meanings, if true. Would that mixed status be part of their conversation?
Nodding to the elf, Harpor gave his assent and moved to complete his morning tasks. It took a moment to figure out the sanitational facilities, but he marveled at the simplicity of everything. He would have to bring some of those ideas back with him to Ogrimarr. While the Horde Capital tried to make itself accommodating to all peoples, it still lacked a lot of the refinement of a place like Silvermoon or any of the Alliance cities for that matter.
There was a knock at the door and Harpor opened it to find the Charms Professor waiting there with a smile. As soon as the man was let into the room a meal appeared on the table for them to share. The displaced orc was happy to see hearty servings of eggs, bacon, and sausages, in addition to breads and some things he didn’t recognize, most likely local versions of some items.
They spent the meal in idle chat, discussing the differences in their home. Castles weren’t unfamiliar back home and the design of Ogrimarr would have fit into some of the places Filius had traveled during his time as a Duelist. That had been the biggest surprise, though he really should haven’t learned not to judge someone by their appearance. From the stories, the man had been quite the fighter in his time and had offered to exchange techniques. He had been most interested in the totems and their defensive capabilities, since the original totem had managed to divert many of the spells that had been sent during the altercation yesterday.
After they finished the meal, their talk turned to discussions about the tournament, what would be required of Harpor, and what opportunities might be available. Filius looked somewhat serious. “The Headmaster and the Heads of House had decided that for now it would be best if you did not interact with the general public. Not all will accept your appearance. I know I’ve had my own share of difficulties.”
Harpor ran a hand over his face, fingers lingering on his tusks for a moment. Turning his attention back to the Professor, he shrugged broad shoulders. “And if I could change that appearance to look human, would that change things?”
Filius grinned. “Self transfiguration? You can change your appearance? Is it a spell, an innate ability of your people or… no, there is time to figure all that out later. You’re going to be here for a while, after all. Anyway, I suspect that if you can appear as a human, you will be allowed to attend classes with the other students, though we would have to figure out what level to put in you, not only for learning the type of magic we teach here, but to also have a satisfying social experience.”
Grin growing wider, Filius continued. “Based on your current appearance, I can’t help feeling you are older than most of the students here. Not to mention your possible physical prowess. Not that size always matters.” He laughed before adding. “Do you need time for the change or is it something you can do now? I would love to see it.”
Harpor nodded and stood, repeating the process from the night before, returning to a form that felt alien even though it was his birth form. While his father had insisted that every few months he spend some time in this body so as not to forget his origins, he never truly connected with it. Perhaps that had to do with the lack of humans in the Horde, but whatever the reason, he was always more comfortable in his orc form.
Once the transformation was complete, he squinted as the world grew slightly out of focus. He’d forgotten that aspect of the change. For whatever reason, his orc form had perfect vision, but his human form needed help from some goblin engineering. Pulling a pair of goggle from storage, he secured them in place, then scowled at the need for them in the first place. Reaching up, he brushed his bangs to the side so that the goggles fit more comfortably.
The Charms Professor’s eyes widened at Harpor’s new appearance and the man squeaked, actually squeaked for a moment, reminding him very much of some of the goblins he knew back home.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Harpor, you surprised me is all. You see, you put me in mind of the son of a dearly departed student of mine. That child went missing over a decade ago. Save for your hair, and, ahem, stature, you would be the spitting image of James Potter.”
Harpor reached up and ran a hand along of his braids. “My braids are to honor my father, Thrall, as he wears his hair in this manner. However, I also do it because my hair is normally a chaotic mess if I do not keep it long and braided.”
Filius had a thoughtful look on his face before reaching up. “May I?”
Harpor nodded slowly then leaned down.
As the shorter man brushed aside the bangs and inspected the spirit scar on his forehead, that look of thoughtfulness seemed to deepen. “Harry?”
The displaced man gave a start. “How do you know that name?”
Filius gave a short gasp. “Are you Harry Potter?”
The young man sat down heavily at the table, his emerald green eyes distant as he thought back to a story told him when he was taught to transfigure his appearance. “My father, Thrall, was out communing with the spirits one day when he was shown a vision. Following that vision, he found me, a babe in a basket. A human babe, all alone in Durotar, a rough place even for the sturdy orcs, let alone a soft human. He took that baby in and found a note pinned to the blanket, written in a version of the common tongue. Once he had been able to decipher the note, he learned that I had been left with relatives. It appeared I had been twice abandoned, as no humans had ever been seen in that part of the land.”
After taking a deep breath, he continued. “The blanket was labeled with a name. Harry Potter. From that name, Thrall named me Harpor and decided to raise me along with his wife. Eventually they had a child and I call him brother.”
Filius looked into those green eyes and saw a myriad of emotions warring within the young man. It wasn’t every day that one learned something so shocking in regards to one’s origin. “Before we talk more about this, I’d like to bring in Minerva. She was also close to the Potters and would be better able to help us. If what we now suspect is true, there is so much to be done. So much.” He reached over and gave Harpor, or was it Harry now, a pat on the shoulder.
“We’ll figure this out together. You will not be abandoned another time.”
***
Many hours later, the trio, which now included Professor McGonnagall, finally wound down their conversation in Harry’s suite. They decided that while he was in his human form, he would go by that name, creating a second identity for his orc form. While they were both happy that he had been brought back to where he belonged, they weren’t sure who or what had actually happened. Something had originally sent him away to Azeroth. Something else had then summoned him to participate in a deadly competition.
They came up with a plan to get Harry the education he needed to properly understand wizarding magic, as it differed greatly from the elemental magic that he had been taught and felt most comfortable with. Since Harry was originally enrolled at Hogwarts there was no need for paperwork to get him into the classes. Instead, they would claim that he had been living and studying abroad all these years.
Upon graduating he had been told by his guardian (who would remain anonymous) about his past and how his parents had wanted him to attend Hogwarts. He would attend a variety of sixth and seventh year classes to observe and compare, but wouldn’t actually be part of those classes. Afterwards, he would meet up with Minerva and/or Filius and go over what was covered in those classes and how Harry could incorporate that knowledge.
Harry would be vague about his past, saying that he had been asked not to speak of it due to privacy concerns for his foster family. They would provide him with a portkey that would take him offsite, where he would be staying, though they would instead have one of the house elves bring him back to his suite.
Eventually it was decided that they would not inform the Headmaster, at least not right away. That would give them an additional layer of protection, as Albus would be working with Harpor, Son of Thrall. Hopefully, once they had a better idea of what had happened to Harry, either in the past or with the most recent summoning, they would be able to bring in Dumbledore.
Minerva spent some time with Harry going over his self transfiguration. She was fascinated by his technique, since it didn’t use any wand movements. It was almost like an animagus transformation, which she demonstrated to him by turning into a cat. He was fascinated by that, likening it to some of the other transformations he had been witness to, such as the druids of Azeroth and their myriad forms. He even mentioned that some shamans were able to call upon an ascended form, but that he hadn’t quite reached that level of mastery yet. He was hopeful though.
They ended their morning by having Harry switch back to Harpor and heading to Gringots, since that had been the original plan. The Headmaster had been good enough to provide a portkey to Diagon Alley. After transfiguring a massive cloak to hide orcish features, the trio made their way to the bank.
There they exchanged some of Harpor’s gold for Galleons, avoiding the Potter properties until they had a better handle on things. Fortunately, the goblins had no problem working with an orc, seeing as they had never met one of the race. Harpor for his part found the parallels between the two goblins races rather fascinating. While the two were interested in business, the Azerothian Goblins were much more hands on and martial in their outlook than the Gringots contingent, at least from what he could see.
Before leaving the bank, Harpot made sure to get some means of contacting the bank to discuss further transactions for gold, as well as a number of magical items he happened to have in his personal storage. Mostly things he had forgotten to put into his bank back in Ogrimarr that were cluttering his inventory.
Before leaving Diagon Alley, the trio made their way to Olivanders to procure a wand for Harry. Harpor would continue to use his shaman abilities. The encounter with Olivander was interesting and one that they would all think back on many times.
Upon entering the shop, Harpor had to suppress a grin. The place reminded him so much of some of the shops from back home, cluttered and cramped, while at the same time feeling completely saturated with magic. He could almost feel a wall of energy coming from the stacks of small boxes behind the counter.
Olivander himself seemed to appear out of nowhere, a trick Harpor really wished to learn, though not likely to any time soon. The old human had taken one look at the orcish features and blinked before nodding and introducing himself. The wand maker then proceeded to take measurements before frowning.
“I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but you wouldn’t by chance have another form, would you? The measurements I’m getting from your just seem a little… off for some reason.”
The trio looked at one another before both Professors nodded their assent. Harpor turned into Harry. Olivander nodded as if expecting that, then returned to his measurements. Upon completion, he nodded to himself thus bustled his way back behind the counter.
What followed was a bewildering blizzard of boxes and wands, each of which had some sort of reaction, though usually mild. Each time a new wand seemed to react to Harry, Olivander would get a strange look in his eyes, before snatching the wand away and handing Harry another. Dozens of wands threw sparks, or tiny flames, flashes of dusty wind, or even conjuring a brief flurry of snowflakes.
Eventually, Olivander brought out one wand that he said was curious. However, that wand was no different that the others, in that it reacted, but with nothing they hadn’t seen before. Olivander took a moment to explain that the wand had a brother that had given Harry his scar, and that there might have been a connection.
Harry resisted the urge to talk about the spirit that had been cleansed from his scar, sensing there might be more to the story than he had originally guessed.
After another dozen wands, Olivander decided to try one of the few wands in his shop that he hadn’t crafted himself. One from the American Wandmaker Shikoba Wolfe.
Even before he touched the wand Harry could hear a thunderstorm. One the wood hit his palm there was a crack of thunder and the entire shop smelled of ozone for a moment, their hair going on end before everything settled. Harry didn’t even attempt to cast anything through the wand, just marveling at the feel of it settling with his magic.
Olivander looked at the wand for a moment before nodding. “Yew with a thunderbird tail feather. A powerful combination that will take a strong will to master.”
After obtaining a wand holster and care kit, the trio returned to the castle.
***
The return of the Boy Who Lived was the top news story in the Daily Prophet, overshadowing the story of a strange creature being summoned to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Details of Harry Potter’s life were being kept silent by the two people who presented him to the world, Professors McGonnagall and Flitwick. The biggest secret though, was why Harry appeared to be older than he should be. The story they went with was that an ancient wizard in the colonies had taken Harry with him into a pocket dimension and taught him secret magics there.
Everyone went crazy thinking of the adventures Harry could have had in the colonies. The Boy Who Lived series seemed all the more fantastical compared to the reported story.
Harry hated it.
Even in Ogrimarr, where he was the son of the former Warchief, he never received this type of attention. Everyone was too busy with their own lives, or working on the various war efforts. The newly opened lands of Kul Tiras and Zandalar were being fought over and it was only a few months before Harpor would have been able to join the efforts alongside some of his childhood companions.
Alongside the constant attention, Harry had to get used to the difference in culture. Most of the people of the Horde were content to live and let live. Those in Hogwarts, and to an extent the general wizarding public, seemed to make it their mission to know all about Harry and involve themselves in everything he did.
While he was observing classes, there were many among the students who wanted to see what Harry could do. He was being constantly asked questions about his past, about his abilities, and about his adventures. It got to the point where Harry took to having his meals in the Kitchen with the House Elves and disappearing as soon as his classes were done.
During the training sessions with the Professors he threw himself into learning the new magic, channeling all of his frustrations with his situation into a fervor and desire to learn and improve. Most of what he learned was the offensive and defensive spells. However, because of his ability in self transfiguration, he focused a lot on that with Professor McGonnagall. They found ways to combine transfiguration with his elemental summons. He was looking forward to giving those abilities a thorough workout.
Another thing he needed to learn to deal with was the attraction of the opposite sex. While in Ogrimarr, his status as the son of Thrall kept most of the casual suitors away. He still found time to get to know some of the orcs and blood elves, though nothing had come of those explorations. He never did find himself attracted to any of the Taurens or Goblins. There had been a couple of trolls though.
Most of the human girls held no interest for him. They were too small and too young and too soft. One of the other champions, the one from Beauxbatons Academy, seemed particularly enamored of him, especially when he ignored her, which he never understood. She reminded him of some of the blood elves from back home though and while certainly pretty, she was not the type he was interested in.
One girl did manage to catch his eye though. Broad shoulders with a fantastic scowl. She seemed to be part of a faction in the school that was generally opposed to his existence, nestled with the House of Slitherin. He didn’t understand the divide in the school, but it wasn’t up to him how they handled things.
Fortunately, the weekends proved to be a silver lining in everything. While having a discussion with the half-giant Hagrid, one of the few people in the school even bigger than he was, they got to talking about hunting various animals. Their conversation turned to methods of skinning and preserving their pelts. Harry confessed to enjoying leatherworking and hunting. Hagrid suggested that Harry take the time to explore the nearby Forest.
Harry loved it! The Forest reminded him of Ashenvale, where he’d had the chance to explore and hunt. He was able to return to his orcish form and hunt to his heart’s content. Even more, the forest also contained its own version of the giant spiders that he’d made a habit of hunting back home. Not only were they the same size or even larger sometimes, they had a particularly robust chitin.
Taking the time to learn how to properly skin and harvest the spiders allowed him to learn some new ways of leatherworking. Combined with the magic of home and that he had been learning at Hogwarts, he was able to create an updated battlerobe that was much more resilient. If only he knew some enchanting, but that could wait until he returned home. Or perhaps he would look into more about the runes they taught here. From what he’d learned so far there were some definite parallels.
It was on one of those weekend jaunts that he came to his most startling discovery in the Forest. Secured in a clearing in the forest were a collection of four drakes. The large pseudo dragons looked a lot meaner than the versions he was used to, but they were unmistakably drakes. Complete with fire breathing and mean dispositions. Given that they had appeared out of nowhere and so close to the start of the first task, he came to the only conclusion he could.
The first task was going to be a ton of fun.
***
The day of the first task dawn. Harry stood before his mirror and transformed back into Harpor. The orcish body still felt more real than the human one. Satisfied with his looks, he turned to don his new forest spider battlerobe. He had to forgo his beads and bracers, as well as his belt, as the rules stated he could only wear his robes and wield his wand. As a final piece though, he wore a massive transfigured cloak like the one he had used to go to Diagon Alley.
Even after over a month to get used to it, the wand still felt tiny in his orcish hands. However, he’d practiced every spell in both forms and was confident should he need them. They weren’t his main plan though. Since he wanted to enjoy himself, he was going to stick to the spells that had been taught to him by his father, enhanced with human teaching. He was particularly looking forward to seeing how some of his newer versions worked against such a worthy foe as the drakes.
Filius arrived to escort him to the task. They talked about some of the spells they were working on along the way, especially some of the charms that would duplicate Harpor’s totems. Having a backup for each of his totems would be great and it would provide the wizards with a reliable way to protect themselves against many of the more dangerous offensive spells.
Soon they arrived at the tent, ignoring the crowd outside. Once inside, he shucked the cloak, mindful of the way the other champions kept a wary eye on him, including the witch who showed so much unrequited interest in his human form. He greeted each one in turn. They had all met only once before, at the weighing of the wands, an event he chose not to dwell upon.
Only a few minutes passed before the Task coordinator made his way into the tent with a flourish, though the man stuttered to a stop a few times on catching Harpor’s appearance. Fortunately he was able to rally himself and explain that they would each face a dragon. The orc suppressed a scoff. Those overgrown lizards were no dragons, at least not as he knew them. Drakes he called them and drakes he would treat them.
Once each champion had selected their dragons, the man left and the champions took a few moments to ready themselves. Harpor settled along one wall of the tent and knelt in meditation to prepare himself. The other tree champions ignored him as they each took to the arena in turn.
While the tent door was closed no sound reached them from the arena floor. Harpor guessed that was to prevent them from hearing the strategies used before their own attempts. He mentally shrugged, already knowing how he was going to perform.
Eventually, the young witch returned, slightly singed, the last of the champions before him.
Rising to his bare feet, Harpor grinned. Things would be much more fun if he’d had his hammer, but he supposed that he could do without his enchanted gear. The new spells would be more than sufficient.
Stepping out of the tent, he looked around at the stone arena. There were places to hide and move out of sight of the drake, as well as random boulders. Very much like the Durotar canyons. For a moment he had to fight off a wave of homesickness before the roar of the drake brought him back to task.
Raising his hands above his head, he roared out his own challenge. “Earth, wind, and fire, heed my call!”
The ground of the arena began to shake as a massive hand forced itself out of the ground, followed by an arm. Eventually a titan of stone stood in the center of the arena. Unlike the ones he summoned back home, this one was much more humanoid in form, all one piece rather than made of floating rocks.
Harpor directed the elemental towards the drake, the lizard crouching over her eggs with a snarl and another roar. The ground shook under the lumbering steps of the earth titan, though it moved quickly for something that size.
Calling up more magic, Harpor called fire into being and lashed out at the dragon, wrapping it in a corona of flames that seemed to more annoy it than actually hurt the beast. He followed up the attack with a lance of lava just as the titan landed a two handed blow to the creature’s head.
The drake slammed her tail into the titan, only for the construct to wrap an arm around the limb and hold it in place. Screaming in fury, the drake unleashed a torrent of flames upon the unyielding stone.
While Harpor could feel the magic of the titan eroding under the assault. There may have been something to them calling it a dragon.
Shards of earth rose up around him, whittling down into spears that rushed towards the drake. Harpor raised both hands and unleashed a flurry of lightning bolts, followed by another lava lance. The drake roared in fury and turned away from the titan for a moment to focus on the one causing it untold pain. That proved to be a mistake as the titan actually tackled the dragon, overpowering it for a moment, long enough to lift the beast off its feet.
Countless stone spears slammed into the softer underbelly, followed by more lightning. Harpor’s wand sprang to hand, conjuring up a massive spear of stone while the other hand continued to send more and more lightning into the struggling drake.
Before the titan lost its hold, Harpor wrapped the stone spear in lightning and then launched it with a blasting spell, sending the attack faster than he had ever managed before. The spear slammed into and then through the drake, cutting off a roar into a whimper. The beast slumped down, another whimper escaping it before the titan landed a two handed blow to the top of its head, crushing it.
Harpor leaned over panting for a moment before standing up straight and unleashing a roar of triumph into the quiet arena air. Marching over to the corpse, he stuffed the corpse into his inventory, then fished the golden egg out of the remains of the nest. Holding the egg aloft he roared again, then made his way back to the tent.