Hello! A Silver Dolphin here. My thanks for reading on and a thousand apologies for the long wait.

Chapter Two: Of Wizards and Dragons

Her first thought was that Ysera would've loved it.

With a gentle smile on the wizard's face, the tine of his wand glowed brightly. Wisps of arcane energy hastened into action, coalescing into a single point. With each passing moment, she could feel her spirits lifting. The mere casting of the spell seemed to exude mana and evoke feelings of…happiness?

Translucent, magnificent light silver antlers shimmered into being, and the silhouette of a horse-like creature began to form. Like when the Wizard first appeared in her cell, a sudden influx of arcane flooded the area, and now the eyes of a mighty stag gazed upon her.

It was beautiful.

The harshness of the fortress walls that had been her prison lost its ominous presence. The hallways seemed brighter, the world itself a little warmer.

The cheerful, almost teasing voice of the Wizard returned her from her daydream.

"It seems that whether dragon, or human, the look of awe on one's face never changes."

"…" Words failed her at this most critical juncture.

Embarrassingly, the wizard appeared to realize that and generously willed the stag forward, until barely any distance remained between them. The stag's head brushed against her palm and a pleasant warmth seemed to encourage her.

"…My thanks, Harry."

She siphoned a trickle of mana, taking a moment to attune to it, before almost greedily devouring in a manner nothing but a dragon could replicate. The mana tasted nostalgic. While obviously arcane in nature (and by the titans was it intense), it hinted at some other energy.

She felt revitalized, as if the fire within her own depths had been rekindled. As soon as the stag began to waver, she slowed the siphoning, wishing to slightly prolong the moment.

"Huh. That should've been enough for ten wizards…" With a lazy wave of his wand, the stag regained its lustre. "Well, I suppose dragons would need a bit more. But please be quick about it. The hallways are clear, but I bet they'll have a blockade of sorts set up soon."

"Yes, agreed." With her powers returning, her tone found strength. "With haste then, I'll continue my recovery as we move."

As they advanced through the hallways unchallenged and climbed out of prison ward, the Wizard's assumption was quickly proven correct. Behind the heavy, grand doors barring entrance to the great hall, the tell-tale sounds of orders being barked out and heavy movement practically guaranteed an ambush the second they entered.

Harry took a moment to check on his companion.

"Right, before we enter any pitched battles, do you need a weapon or maybe some form of protection?"

"Your concerns speak well of your character, Harry." With slight regret, the last vestiges of the stag vanished, and resplendent ember eyes blazed anew. "But I assure you, all I need is flame and fury. Both of which I now have in abundance."

"Fair enough. You're more than familiar with our foes, do you have a plan? Or would you prefer I take the lead?"

"I do have some siege spells I've been wanting to test…" Harry spoke almost longingly, a keen gleam in his eyes.

Oh mages. Ever eager academics.

In any other circumstance, she'd be all too happy to agree. But she'd waited years, if not a full decade for this moment.

The Dragon Queen strode purposely up to the doors.

"Stand back, and cover your ears."

Brogas Scalebane was no stranger to red dragons. Indeed, he was made chief handler for his skill in taming their whelps, turning them into proper mounts befitting warriors of the Dragonmaul Clan. It was also why he knew something was drastically wrong.

They were never completely silent.

Always, no matter the time of day or where he was in Grim Batol, he'd hear some kind of garbled screeching. They were simple creatures. When he thrashed them, they screeched. When he bred them, they screeched.

Yet now, from the smallest whelp to mounts already prepared and waiting for riders, they were completely still, as if frozen in time. Did it have something to do with the haunting, draconic roar that he'd heard just minutes before?

The door connecting the hallway to the dragon pens slammed open. His head spun around to see a harried orc entered.

"Brogas! Lock up the pens then armour up and head to the great hall, we're being attacked!"

"What?! Wait, the dragons are acting wei—"

"No time, just get it done!" The orc messenger dashed off.

The eerie silence returned. Dozens of eyes followed his every moment. Anxiety took grasp of his soul. Instinctively, he reached for his axe and tightened his grip. With harried movements, he set about checking the chains binding the whelps and securing the muzzles on the mounts.

The sturdiness of the chains, and the familiar weight of iron brought him some measure of comfort. Even if the usual struggle they put up when it was time to be chained seemed a little less dangerous and a lot more deadly today.

His body shot to attention as the haunting, draconic roar he'd hoped never to hear again resounded once again, this time even louder and longer, booming throughout the pens unchallenged, shaking the very ground he stood upon.

"Arise, my children, Guardians of Life! I am free once more! Teach these slavers of the suffering they have wrought! Let them witness the strength of the Red Dragonflight!"

Brogas would not be the only orc that day to wish he'd understood even the slightest bit of draconian speech. He would also not be the only one to wish his axe could actually scratch a dragon's scales.

He would however, be the only one to wish that the clan had invested in mithril chains.

The doors of the great hall had survived the War of the Three Hammers. Dwarven champions, sorcerers, and even siege engines had struggled to break down the doors that barred entry to the hall. It stood tall as a testament of dwarven craftsmanship.

It laid shattered beneath the claws of the Life-Binder.

"Huh…I suppose it's nice to be on the side not running from a dragon, for a change."

Spoken in a language no one on Azeroth understood, Harry's idle musings did nothing to deter what was less a fireball and more an inferno from laying waste to the makeshift barricade. On the contrary, his spells merely added to the madness; chairs, tables, and even the fortress walls themselves had been transfigured into formidable creatures that turned on their defenders.

It was a welcome change honestly, being on the side of overwhelming firepower, disregarding the stench of burnt flesh and screams of pain. He vanished the sword of an orc who thought that charging a Wizard would be clever, then banished him straight into the midst of Alexstrasza's fire breath.

The renewed screaming made Harry wince. Dragon-Fire was most certainly not how anyone wanted to die. That being said, pragmatism was the name of the game.

"Accio orcs."

The dozen or so stragglers and few ranged attackers found themselves swept off their feet and dragged into the fire. Orcs were never meant to fly. It was the desperate clawing and clasping at the ground that made Harry feel a little like the bad guy.

As the last orc dissolved into dust, Harry turned to his now enormous companion.

"Well, you are most certainly a dragon." He spoke with a hint of mirth, before slightly grimacing as she didn't respond. "You seem exhausted. Are you alright, Alexstrasza?"

While he wasn't too familiar with dragon physiology, with her wings torn in places, and scales missing or cracked…

With a mummering of words and a swish of his wand, Harry summoned the stag once more. It quickly trotted up to her. She felt her tension abate slightly.

"…It appears I haven't recovered as much as I thought." She took a moment to breath heavily and regain her humanoid form so as to make speech and recovery easier.

"My strength has waned from years of atrophy. Hopefully, the remnants of my flight have not suffered the same fate. With my message, they should soon come to aid us."

"I've said it before, but you're really in no condition to fight. Even if they'll be unprepared, is there a reason you've got to do this now?"

The Life-Binder's gaze met that of the Wizard's. There was a story behind the strength of his gaze, no doubt. And it'd been he, not her fellow aspects nor her own flight that rescued her. If he had trusted her with his own mana, it was something that must repaid in kind.

"…Nekros," The name was spat out with hatred. "is in possession of a cursed artefact called the Demon Soul, a weapon that has killed so many of us, and enslaved the entity of the Red Dragonflight. If we were to battle him when he's fully prepared, there would be none that could stand against him."

The Wizard grimaced.

"Fortunately, the artefact takes time to channel. That is why we must strike now!" A hint of fear was heard in her voice, whether for herself, her kin or a mix of both, Harry did not know, but understood nonetheless.

"At its creation, the Demon Soul was imbued with the essence of the Aspects, allowing him to track us down if he so wished. I fear that if we leave now, nowhere would be safe."

"He must be slain." Alexstrasza vowed. "Even if I perish in the attempt."

Harry's face contorted briefly before returning to a light frown.

"What would happen if he's interrupted? Would the artefact explode? Or the magic simply not activate?"

"I would expect the latter. The creator had designed it to be wielded by himself, and in his prime, had been the wisest of us."

A rather vicious smile emerged on the Wizard's face.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much do you care about this fortress?"

Alexstrasza decided that she liked this Wizard's smile.

The Warden of the Dragon Queen smirked. The two draconic roars hadn't rattled him in the slightest.

They merely served as proof that his masterplan worked perfectly.

Nekros Skullcrusher had not gained his position without the wisdom and cunning that so many of his kind lacked.

Only a fool would think himself capable of imprisoning a Dragon Aspect without consequence. It was only a matter of time until he pushed her too far, and she would hazard one last attempt at freedom before she broke.

That would not do.

If she'd escaped, there was a nary a chance that she'd return without the weight of the Greens or the Blues and whatever remained of the Reds behind her. Even with the Demon Soul, he would not survive the battle, and the Dragonmaw clan would perish with him.

No, to ensure her last ditch effort would fail, her mind needed to be turned away from thoughts of freedom. The battle would be all but won so long as she remained within the walls of Grim Batol, where his magic could obscure his presence from her, just as it'd had done to the Shadow Council.

His spell would fool the dulled senses of the Life-Binder, leading her deep into the dungeons, where the traps he'd spent years preparing would bind her until the Demon Soul was primed. A nasty cackle echoed through his tower as he imagined the look of devastation and fury on her face.

And as a Warlock, he knew exactly what would force her hand.

Her mind needed be enthralled with the thought of vengeance. So thoroughly tortured in both body and mind, so consumed with the thought of his demise that she would never willingly leave so long as there was even the slightest chance he'd be slain.

The vast power of Demon Soul swirled around the Warlock's hidden chamber. His heart soared as he neared ever closer to the fruition of a decade long scheme, the cumulation of his life's work—the twisting of Alexstrasza into a broodmare of the Dragonmaul.

And then the stone floor beneath his feet collapsed.

There were many spells in his repertoire that would aid him in destruction. Bombarda, Expulso, Confringo.

All of which would result in calamitous amounts of damage, not that Alexstrasza would've protested. But still, if she wanted the Warlock alive, though presumably only to bathe him in Dragon-fire herself, he needed a spell with finesse.

Long ago, Hermione had only been too quick to explain the intricacies of the Deprimo charm to him. The spell depressed its target, as if gravity itself decided something had offended it. To think there was a magical reason as to why the leaning tower of Pisa, well, leaned. The spell could crumble castles, if cast by a powerful wizard, much to Hermione's dismay. (It was the last time he'd ever overpower a spell around her.)

With little fanfare, but Alexstrasza's attention nonetheless, the Wizard pointed his wand at an abstract point above him, a point roughly seven floors of stone directly beneath the feet of Nekros and the Demon Soul.

"I suppose it's my turn to say 'stand back and cover your ears.'" Harry quipped.

The Life-Binder couldn't help but smile back.

"Deprimo."

Belying Harry's soft-spoken words, a green orb teeming with magic shot out from the tine of his wand, violently impacting the ceiling.

A Wizard and a Dragon shared a mutually impatient silence.

A pebble entered free fall. An avalanche of stone followed.

"Hmm. Perhaps the Defodio charm would've been cleaner." Harry complained as bits of rubble landed on his shoulders.

The Dragon Queen's smile showed teeth as she spotted a shade of dark green screaming, separated from a golden disk falling amongst the black and grey bricks.

With vindictive glee, she restored her dragon form and stormed into the avalanche, uncaring of the rubble.

"Nekros…" Harry could feel the dragon emanate wrath. "You had them slay my children! My children!"

The Warlock's last sight was that of tremendous jaws, as he plummeted straight into rows of razor sharp teeth. He did not live to hear the sound of teeth grinding.

"Well, that was...something." Harry's usual levity was somewhat missing from his tone. "But I suppose he deserved it. Merlin knows what I would've done in your position."

"Forgive me for having you witness that, but it is something I had promised him when I was first captured, and to my shame, one of the reasons I hadn't lost hope."

"No, don't apologize, new world, different culture. Not my place to judge." Harry regained his cheer. "So, what happens next?"

New World?

Alexstrasza set aside her musings, reverting to her humanoid form, and gestured towards the gold disk.

"If you'll stay with me awhile longer…" Harry nodded, much to her relief. "For now, we rest until the rest of my flight has joined us. Afterwards, we must deal with the Demon Soul; it must be rehidden."

"Not destroyed?"

The Dragon Queen sighed.

"All of us Dragon Aspects have tried. Malygos alleged that Deathwing, its creator, had poured much of his own soul into it, and echoes of our own power, preventing us from destroying it. Neither magic nor might can destroy it…"

Alexstrasza watched as the Wizard took on a pensive, almost troubled expression. A sentiment she shared.

Yet another Horcrux? Fiendfyre then? But if Dragon-Fire hadn't worked, hopefully…

"Mind if I try anyway?" Alexstrasza gave Harry a questioning look but agreed nonetheless.

"It can do no harm."

In yet another display of arcane mastery, the Wizard retrieved a miniature chest and placed it on the floor, where it enlarged to a respectable size. Alexstrasza blinked as Harry's hand seemed to sink deeper than the chest should allow as it fumbled around for something.

"Ah, there it is. Almost forgot where I'd placed it."

An ornamental sword, fashioned from pure-silver and beset with magnificent ruby gemstones, gleamed as it saw light for the first time in years. Harry experimented with his grip, practicing a few swings.

"Be cautious, Harry. Weapons have been repelled with twice their force, when striking the artefact."

"Thanks for the warning."

Looking less like a heroic swing, and more an amateur's best effort, the Sword of Gryffindor still cut through the Demon Soul's gold exterior like a knife through butter.

Surprise dominated the Dragon Aspect's face.

"Huh. That went better than ex-"

Alexstrasza pinned the Wizard to the ground, just in time to avoid a burst of her own energy erupting from the cut. As if instinctively seeking out its owner, the Dragon Queen was bathed in a glow of light.

A euphoric sensation coursed through her. With each passing second, the Life-Binder felt her strength return and her powers grow.

Awash in the glow, for a time that felt infinite in length, she sat dazed as distinct tints of blue, green, and bronze lights escaped into the sky, flooding through the hole opened by Harry's spell. She knew instinctively that they would return to her fellow Aspects.

As the last streams of energy filtered out of the Demon Soul, seemingly draining the artefact of its golden colour, she finally regained a clarity she hadn't had in years.

With the brightest smile, she sought out the Wizard. A brief panic spiked as she failed to see him in her surroundings.

Then he coughed, and she looked down. Her hands were resting on the Wizard's chest.

"You know, apart from my head hitting the floor, this feels pretty nice actually."

She wholeheartedly agreed.

AN: It's good to be back. There's a lot I still don't know about the World of Warcraft, and the wiki can rather blank this early in the timeline, so I'd like some input as to what you'd like to see happen in this story, as well as if I've made any mistakes grave enough to retcon.

Like Med'an. (I'm sorry Blizzard, the joke had to be made!)

Anyway, I've bored you enough. Suggestions, corrections, and reviews welcome till the end of time.

A Silver Dolphin,

Signing out.

P.S. Please recommend a good nickname for Alexstrasza. Her name's rather cumbersome to fit into light-hearted conversation.