Hey there. A Silver Dolphin here. Thanks for giving this a read. A bout of nostalgia and an attempt to overcome writer's block has brought to you the first chapter of A Wizard's Respite. This is the second story I've ever written. Please enjoy.

While I'm not too well versed in WoW lore, my childhood was spent playing Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos, and The Frozen Throne. Sadly, as of late, I've had no time for games. (Get it? Eh? I'll stop now.)

Death was kind.

For those who were torn apart from their loved ones by the machinations of war, death was the promised reunion.

For those who were weary, tired of the endless tragedies life had forced upon them, death was the promise of rest, and perhaps in time, a new, happier beginning.

But to Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived turned Man-Who-Conquered, Death was a friend.

"You know, Harry, for a person who's name ought to appear next to the definition of 'betrayed' in the dictionary," A familiar voice teased. "You're certainly doing well for yourself."

The person in question turned towards the source of the voice.

"Interesting choice in appearance, Death." He returned. "Gotten bored again, I see."

His eyes took in Death's latest façade. She'd donned the visage of a young woman. One with a curious extra appendage. Feathered wings of onyx divulged from her shoulder blades, contrasting hair and eyes of bright silver.

"The Angel of Death." She curtsied. "A depiction of myself drawn by an inspired artist. I've grown quite attached to this form. For this alone, he'll pass in his sleep, departing of old age."

"Not that I dislike your company, far from it actually, but what brings you to my humble abode?"

"Potter Castle is far from a humble abode." She deadpanned. "Seriously though? A solid gold enchanted toilet seat?"

Harry muffled a laugh.

"Compliments of the Malfoy vaults. I would've loved to see the look on Lucius's face when he discovered all his vaults were empty. But anyway, what brings you here?"

"Can't I just visit my 'master'? Ferrying souls to my realm does get boring after a few eons. Even a primordial force like me needs some companionship every now and then."

Harry deadpanned.

"What? Death gets lonely too you know."

He might've believed her if she hadn't started averting his eyes.

"...You know me, I don't like beating around the bush."

"…I've come to ask you a question."

"And what would that be?"

"Why do you not seek vengeance?" The black winged Angel asked. "After all they've done to you…Banishment. Isolation. I certainly wouldn't mind crossing a few names off my list earlier than planned."

The Wizard sighed.

"It's tempting. Merlin knows they deserve it…But I can't. I'd really be the Dark Lord they're making me out to be if I did."

The Wizard smiled wistfully.

"And honestly, I prefer seeing my 'banishment' as a sort of mandatory vacation, and a chance to finally do what I want. Outside of Britain, of course. Bet they miss my gold, though."

"Besides, as master of your three hallows, I've got all the time in the world. A century or two spent travelling the world, researching the wonders of magic sounds…magical. Let them waste their lives trying to find me."

Death cringed at the pun. She then settled her face back into one of indifference.

"They did find you. Within the year. Your name showed up on my list, master."

The air chilled as his magic sent the temperature plummeting to sub-zero levels.

"…But how?"

"An ancient precursor to the Killing Curse. You won't die per say. Your soul will be shattered, never to be whole again. An eternity spent mindlessly searching for pieces of yourself. A fate worse than Death." She stated grimly. "Accursed humans. A method to fracture souls should never have existed. Fate's let humans run amok for far too long."

Damned Potter Luck. I can't even die normally.

The air settled, returning to a homely, comfortable warmth.

"Could I ask for a favour, Death?"

She nodded. For all he'd been through, no request was too extreme. She'd take care of this problem, if he'd only asked. He was her…companion now. Not one of Fate's playthings.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to show a man a good time before he goes?" A mischievous grin swept aside his pensive look.

The primordial deity felt her jaws drop low enough to hit the castle floor. Then she blushed.

"You! You! Be serious for a moment!"

"Well, realistically, you're probably the closest thing I have to a friend now. And if your words hold true, I doubt I'll ever get any other chance."

"I'll give you that other chance." She desperately fought her growing blush. "The List applies only to this world."

Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder, guardian of all life on the world of Azeroth, wished only for one thing.

For death to finally claim her.

How many years had passed since she was enslaved by these foul Orcs, stripped of her power? How many of her clutch were twisted from their calling as protectors of life, brainwashed into nothing more than mindless mounts? How many of her children were birthed into slavery, and now dead at the hands of these monsters?

She dared to hope as the last few free members of her flight attempted a rescue. She wept as she heard them fight against their enslaved kin, powerless to stop it. She felt her heart shatter as she watched captors celebrate their victory by desecrating the corpses of her consorts and family, warping their bones and scales into armour to be worn.

The soulless Aspect of Life sagged against the chains binding her to the confines of her prison. The physical battle had been lost long ago. All it would take to end the mental one was one last small push, and then she too would become another mindless drake.

But then, she felt it.

A pulse of magic.

The fortress walls of Grim Batol, and her prison cell, had been warded to ensure not the tiniest wisp of energy, whether light, shadow or arcane could pass through. No mage, human or elven could overcome a barrier fortified using the blood of dozens of Red Dragons.

Only one of the Blue Flight could. And to overcome the blood of dozens of Red Dragons could only be done by an Aspect. So the fact that she could feel a wisp of magic in the air could only mean one thing.

Malygos, the Spell-Weaver, the Aspect of Magic, was nearby.

Whatever pride she had left was promptly discarded. Summoning the last vestige of her strength, a powerful draconian roar rang throughout the cavern, fear clenching the hearts of the Orcs who'd suddenly remembered exactly who they'd captured.

If only they knew the meaning of the draconian words the imprisoned aspect had shouted.

Save me!

She felt hope prevail as the pulse of magic reacted. It had wavered momentarily, as if in shock. But then, a wave of magic flowed throughout the cavern, unperturbed by the barriers and she recognized it as a scrying spell.

For the first time in what must have been decades, she felt a trace of a smile form on her face. She had been found.

But then the pulse suddenly vanished. Fear and despair once more grasped her heart. She closed her eyes, straining her other senses to desperately seek out the pulse of magic once more.

"Hello?"

Arcane energy saturated the air, enveloping her cell in a power that had never felt so comforting before. Of course, the Spell-Weaver had always favoured teleporting over flying.

"Malygos," Her eyes took in the new, surprisingly human, form of her fellow Aspect. "You are a sight for sore eyes, my brother. I shall never forget this favour."

An entrancing pair of emerald eyes, not the familiar blue ones she knew stared back at her.

"I'm sorry, but who's Malygos?" He asked. "And why are you imprisoned here?"

"I am Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder." She replied, as if it explained everything, struggling to comprehend the situation. "Are…Are you not of the Blue Dragon Flight? Did you not answer my call for help?"

"I'm Harry Potter. A wizard on vacation. I'm not sure what's the Blue Dragon Flight. And yes, I heard your call for help."

A moment of silence pervaded as the two abrupt acquaintances stared awkwardly at one another.

Alexstrasza was truly puzzled. A human mage, capable of understanding draconian speech and wielding magic on the level of Malygos? None had been so powerful since the death of Medivh…

Harry was honestly very curious. She had spoken in parseltongue, yet she did not look like a serpent, much less a dragon. In fact, with her long, sharp ears, and ethereal beauty, if not for the horns he would've believed her to be an elf straight out of a fairy tale.

"Ah. Let me get those chains off you."

With a wave of his wand, the chains and cuffs disintegrated, crumbling into nothingness. She watched in awe as the mithril chains which bound her to the cell walls and striped her of her powers—doubtlessly the masterpiece of a dwarven blacksmith and an enchanter of the highest level—turned into dust.

Now free of her chains, the Aspect of Life found herself at a loss for words. This couldn't possibly be a dream, could it?

"…So, shall we apparate, err, teleport out of here?"

At the Wizard's words, arcane energy seamlessly wrapped around her, warmly, almost protectively. She wanted nothing more than to say yes, to put an end to years of torment. But there was something more important than her desires.

"Thank you, Wizard. But, I cannot. These monsters have captured and enslaved my family!" Righteous fury engulfed her. "They turned my kin, the protectors of life, into instruments of war! It was my responsibility to protect and lead them, but, I failed. Even if I die, they must suffer this fate not a second longer."

She looked on as the Wizard's face shifted through a myriad of expressions. Shock. Sympathy. Anger. But lastly, doubt. She felt a slight headache arise that vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

And then his eyes seemed to glow with a fervour she'd only seen before when Paladins called forth the full might of the Light, and the warm arcane energy around her enlivened. She could feel the magic saturate the room, the enchantments of her cell straining to contain the Wizard's mere presence.

"Would you like some help with that?" He asked in a manner that told her no matter what her answer was, the end result would be the same.

Then he rudely pushed her into the ground. Just in time for an axe to miss her head.

"The prisoner's free, sound the alarms!" The jailor's eyes widened as he spotted the infiltrator. "We're under attack! Call Warden Nek—"

The axe returned to its owner, impaled in his skull, curtesy of a banishing charm.

"Thank you." It seemed as if her senses were far from perfect condition. "Help me, Arch-mage Potter, and I promise that the Red Dragon flight will do all it can to repay you."

He stood up, and with the most captivating smile she'd ever seen, offered her a hand.

"You can start by calling me Harry."

"We're lost." The Wizard spoke dryly, as dozens of Orc corpses littered the ground.

"Forgive me. The only time I was allowed out of my cell was when they…forced my consorts and I to mate. Give me time to retrace our steps."

Excellent job, Harry. Remind your only friend on this world that she'd been—

"I'm sorry." He cringed and quickly attempted to switch topics. "We're supposed to find the leader of these Orcs here, right? Do you have a name?"

"The Warlock, Nekros Skullcrusher." Alexstrasza spat.

"Point me Nekros Skullcrusher."

The Life Binder felt a pulse of magic traverse in all directions and wondered if this was the spell he'd used to locate her. Within seconds, Harry immediately turned around, and to her embarrassment, headed in the complete opposite direction of which they were travelling.

"Listen, I've had my magic bound before, and afterwards I couldn't fight for weeks." The Wizard glanced at her bruised figure. "Not to mention malnourishment…You would have a much better chance after regaining your strength."

The Wizard's words were true, but he knew nothing of what happened.

She quickly matched his stride, ignoring the fatigue slowly gnawing on her. Her powers may not have been fully restored just yet, but she needed to strike while the iron was hot. Nekros could control the Demon Soul, but not without preparation.

Doubtlessly, by now he would've started channelling the cursed artefact. Within hours, he would no doubt be able to drain her powers again and this time, death would truly claim her and what was left of her flight.

As much as she hated lying, if only by omission, the Wizard must not learn of the immerse power of the Demon Soul, lest he himself fall corrupt to the whispers of the Old Gods. If someone of his calibre were to be corrupted…

Titans help us.

"The transgressions of these monsters cannot be allowed to go on a second longer. I am truly grateful, Harry, but I will not be swayed."

The Wizard sighed. He briefly wondered if this was what Hermione had to put up with every time he rushed in.

"At the very least, you shouldn't battle on an empty stomach."

The wizard reached into his pouch and levitated a set of three potions before her.

"Skele-Gro; To mend bones and fractures. Pepper-Up; Improves health and relieves pain. The last one is a food substitute to relieve thirst and hunger."

Alexstrasza smiled faintly. She muttered a thanks and downed the potions. Despite the terrible taste left on her tongue, she felt marginally better, through her condition didn't seem to improve in the slightest.

"Hmm?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's odd. The potions should've kicked in by now."

"I can feel their effects, Harry. But given the size of my true form, I'm afraid it is no more than a drop in the bucket."

"True form?"

"I am a dragon. One of the largest in all of Azeroth in truth."

The Wizard looked sceptical for a moment. She briefly wondered how amusing an expression of awe would look on his face.

"Just to be sure, we're talking about dragons as in giant, fire-breathing, man-eating winged serpents right? And you're saying you are one?"

"I haven't eaten anyone in ages, but nonetheless, a fitting description."

...explains the parseltongue at least.

"Well, I do have some more potent potions. Or I suppose I could try my hand at healing spells, though they were never my speciality."

"I have my own healing abilities, but lack the mana to use them...Would you be averse to a mana transfer?" She enquired. "Only if you're willing, of course."

It was rather sad, really, that one of the few similarities between the Blue Dragon Flight, human and elven mages, was that they all guarded their magic and powers with a paranoia so great, even trusted family would be hard-pressed to gain access.

Harry was the same in that regard, but for an entirely different reason. A tantric 'ritual' wasn't something done lightly.

"I think that would be rather…inconvenient right now." A slight blush toned his cheeks.

Ah, the expected response. She sighed briefly.

"But I do have a way for my magic to take on a corporeal form. Would you be able to siphon it?"

"Oh." She quickly overturned her surprise. "Yes, I'd be able to."

"Expecto patronum."

AN: When I envision my readers, all I can think of is this quote:

Archmage (WC3)—"This had better be worth it!"

Whelp. Sorry for the mini cliffhanger. I've done my best Milords'. Please don't cast Flame Strike on me. Feel free to review though. I'd love to hear what you think, and while I've more or less got a plot in mind, I'm open to suggestions.

A Silver Dolphin,

Signing out.

04/04/18-Spelling errors rectified