here's my second attempt to upload this file... copy and paste is messy.

Hi all, no, I'm not dead, just giving my Muse a little CPR and seeing if I can't get writing again

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the HP universe nor Warcraft, just playing in their sandbox.

Read, Review, Enjoy!

Also, looking for a possible Beta-reader if things work out.

"… and the Hogwarts champion is… Cedric Diggory!"

Wild applause rang through the great hall as Cedric rose from his seat with a smile and followed the other champions. The selections had gone without issue and Albus Dumbledore felt an easing in his chest; the nagging worry that had been weighing on him since earlier in the year began to pass, as any fear of his botched ritual had yet to appear. He turned to the crowd, prepared to bring the ceremony to an end when the goblet flared to life again.

Spinning about, Albus gaped at the cup with equal measures of hope and horror. His need to have access to the goblet was the entire reason that the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been resurrected. The ancient artifact was far more than the means to choose contestants for some silly game and he'd spent a lot of political capital to restart the tournament and wrest the goblet from the Department of Mysteries. Sadly, having access to the cup didn't mean success and the ritual, even though it reflected the true power of the artifact, had failed… or so he'd originally thought. Now, as the cup flared back to life, he hoped and dreaded what it might reveal.

With a belch of sparks, a tiny slip of paper wafted up from the cup. Before Dumbledore could catch it, however, the paper was consumed by a pillar of fire that suddenly shot from the cup to form a shimmering disk of light, five to six feet across, just below the ceiling. Almost as one, the adults rose from the head-table, wand in hand, prepared for almost anything… just not what then happened. The disk began pulsing, once, twice, then with an increasing tempo, as if building up to something. With the entire hall looking on, the center of the disk opened like an iris. Through it, those close enough could see a skyward view, as if the disk was a portal, placed on the ground in the other location. Along with the view, a strong wind blew into the Great Hall, bringing the smell of a forest along with a steady rain of detritus from the forest floor. Seconds later, a small robed form burst through the portal, falling toward the floor, a good four meters below.

Though they'd prepared for something to happen, the body suddenly appearing, caused everyone to freeze in surprise for a moment, allowing the form to travel nearly to the floor before Dumbledore could even think of raising his wand. Luckily, the being doing the falling wasn't so affected. Just as they were about to hit, a childish hand stretched out and a word spoken. Albus didn't recognize the language, and so had no idea what was said; he was, however, more familiar with the general effect. Out of nowhere, an amorphous cloud formed between the child and floor, halting their fall, leaving them floating waist-high above the stone floor. The child (Dumbledore was sure they were, from the voice and single hand he'd seen) had barely the chance to let out a relieved sigh when a second, larger form fell through the portal, landed on top and sent them both crashing to the floor.

Silence reigned in the hall as everyone stared at the newest interloper to their celebration. Covered in coarse black fur and many times larger than the small robed figure it had landed on, the beast slowly raised its head and surveyed its surroundings with silvery eyes. The beast was massive, easily the size of a small horse. While definitely canine, it had a thick mane of coarse hair that gave It a slightly leonine appearance. On its shoulder was a strange light patch of fur that looked like a fist-sized circle, with another patch below it in the shape of an upturned crescent. The animal also seemed to be outfitted with a leather harness, kitted out with several pouches and bags. From all appearances, Dumbledore had to assume this was a wolf, though much larger than the average. Though it hadn't risen yet, its muzzle crinkled, exposing its massive teeth, along with a low growl.

Dumbledore risked a side-along glance at his fellow professors heartened that all were ready to take on the threat. Though visibly disconcerted by the suddenness and odd nature of the disturbance, the staff and visiting dignitaries (for the most part) appeared ready to fight if necessary. His house heads all appeared resolute even if one appeared slightly more pale than usual. with his history, however, the reaction should be expected. Professor Moody seemed almost excited by the prospect of battle, grinning madly and repeatedly licking his lips in anticipation. The other school delegations also seemed ready to fight, Madame Maxime was already in a dueling stance and Karkaroff as well, though he'd shifted to be slightly behind the large woman. Sadly, it was the ministry representatives that showed themselves to be the exceptions. Barty Crouch seemed trapped between states of confusion and offense, having not even risen from the table while Ludo Bagman had taken up residence beneath it.

Albus realized that he may have to put down this magnificent creature, else one of his charges may come to harm when a muffled curse distracted them all, including the wolf. The beast left off growling at those around it and looked curiously down between its haunches where a small arm had wormed its way out from under its chest and was slapping at its hide. A muffled, squeaky voice repeatedly called out something indecipherable though definitely insulting, obviously trying to get the animal off him.

With a what almost looked like an amused snort, the wolf relaxed a bit and sat up, releasing the small form it had been laying on up till that moment. The robed figure crawled out from between the wolf's legs and began jabbering angrily at it in a language Albus didn't understand, though it did seem to bear some vague resemblance to early Latin. He caught enough of what was said to know the child was unhappy being a cushion for the wolf and was venting his displeasure at said beast. Sensing that some of the tension of the previous moment had passed, the headmaster motioned for his professors to stand down and return to their seats as he finally got a good look at their smallest visitor.

The child wore some kind of ceremonial forest-green hooded robe that completely hid his features, not having been dislodged even as they'd been trapped under the beast. "Hello," Albus called, causing both the wolf and robed figure to turn in his direction. Though his features remained in shadow, Dumbledore was sure by mannerism and tone of speech, this was a young boy, possibly twelve or thirteen, judging by the cracking voice that heralded imminent entry into his teenage years. "Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Do you speak English?" The boy and wolf both looked at him, each tilting their heads in an amusingly similar manner at the question. Hoping that he'd have better luck a second time, Albus repeated his introduction in Latin. The boy turned his head to the wolf, who seemed to huff in answer to a silent question then answered Dumbledore in halting English.

"Speak some," he said with a thick accent. "Am Thomas, (indecipherable word) initiate, son of Elune. This," he gestured to the wolf, "Wildmane, companion, brother. Some speak your words, our home." His voice dropping in an attempt at sounding a bit more authoritative than his age supported, he asked, "How we here, you do?"

Digesting Thomas's words, Albus thought a moment then tried to explain. "I think perhaps we did," he answered, "Though not," he assured quickly as the wolf seemed to understand and raised its hackles in anger. "by intent. You are currently in a school of wizardry. We," he gestured to his staff, "along with representatives of two other schools were using an artifact to select champions for a tournament between our institutions when said device somehow created a portal and brought you to us." The boy and wolf both looked up, only to see nothing, as the glowing disk had vanished sometime in the moments they'd been talking to the Headmaster. Albus caught a brief glimpse of the boy's face and though there was some sense of familiarity, though it didn't resemble what he'd hoped. With a sinking heart, Dumbledore realized he needed to confirm his suspicions. "Thomas," he said, "by any chance, was your birth-name Harry?"

Thomas again looked to the wolf, then back at Dumbledore, avoiding the question. "Not speak your words good, Wildmane either. He know lots, not yours" He said, gesturing at the massive wolf.

"Really Headmaster," came a snide voice from the head table. "surely you don't believe the brat's pet a linguist." Boy and wolf glanced at the greasy-haired man who'd butted into the conversation, did a double-take and put their heads together as the boy whispered something urgently at the animal, receiving a quiet whine in response. Thomas whispered something back, finally receiving a defeated grunt from Wildmane.

"He not pet," the boy almost growled in the man's direction. "brother."

"Be that as it may,", Albus said, with a glare at Severus Snape, giving a silent order to hold his tongue. "we have several issues with returning you home. Firstly, I don't completely recognize the language you speak, though it does vaguely resemble one spoken long ago, therefore I cannot divine your origin that way. Another problem lies in the view we had through the portal, all we could see was unfamiliar trees and blue sky, also unhelpful in finding your home. Thirdly, the artifact that brought you here creates a binding contract with those it chooses to participate in the tournament, this it does with all that are chosen. If it has done so with you, leaving, even if we find a way to send you back, may cost you your magic."

"No!" the boy cried out urgently, the wolf rose at his yell, hackles raised in agitation. "Have- "he spoke an unrecognizable word, realized, from blank looks that nobody understood him and tried again. "Things we need to do where we from… expected."

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore replied regretfully. This is something beyond my control. The goblet is an ancient artifact, once used for divination and summoning. It's only in the past millennium that its powers were turned to this. While we don't know why, exactly you were chosen, there was an additional ritual it was used for a few days ago that may have influenced today's ceremony. Perhaps if we can determine how you and your friend were linked to it, we can get you home." Ignoring the sudden outraged clamor about cheating and unsanctioned rituals from the table behind him, Dumbledore asked the one question burning in his mind. "Where you come from, do you know of, or heard the name, Harry Potter?... Are you Harry?"

At the headmaster's last question, the wolf rose to all fours and growled ominously, prepared to attack while the boy urgently worked to calm the beast. A seeming conversation passed between them for a few tense moments before coming to some agreement. Turning to face Dumbledore again, the boy answered. "Have heard that name… not for long time." Placing a hand on his chest, he continued. "Am not Harry Potter." He then reached up with both hands and pulled back his hood, baring his head for the first time in front of the Great Hall, drawing a gasp of shock from the Headmaster.

Young, the boy, Thomas was. No more than twelve years old, he was slim though not malnourished. His skin was pale and unblemished, with just a touch of color on his cheeks to indicate he'd spent time outdoors. Coal-black hair topped his head and midnight blue, almost black eyes bore into the headmaster's own. Nearly speechless in equal measures of shock and horror, Dumbledore faced a memory over five decades gone.

"Tom," he gasped, staggering back a step, too stunned to do more than stare. Snape reacted as well, though much more violently. Standing quickly, his wand appearing in his hand as if conjured, he began the motions to cast a spell, though raising his wand was far as he got. The wolf's silver eyes seemed to glow like the full moon for just an instant and just as quickly, thick vines sprung from the wooden portions of the greasy man's chair, entwining and immobilizing him as he was forced back into his seat. The man struggled for a few moments until the wicked thorns hidden in their length began digging into his flesh.

"Headmaster!"

"Peace, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, finally pulling himself out of his funk and addressing his potions-master, at the same time, missing another significant look between boy and wolf. With difficulty, the headmaster got his staff and guests to retake their seats, though they still didn't know exactly what was going on, one of their own had been attacked and no one seemed happy with recent events. Dumbledore did get all but Pomona Sprout, the herbology professor back in their seats. Said professor was hovering over Severus, trying to coax the vines to release him, to little effect. Any pull on them only had them tightening, causing Professor Snape to hiss in pain.

Turning back visitors, Dumbledore addressed the boy, though the twinkle had gone from his eyes. "You say your name is Tom."

Shaking his head, the boy answered testily. "Name Thomas, not Tom. Know who you speak, not him."

Blinking in confusion, Dumbledore asked his wits scattered, "What?"

With a sigh, Thomas looked around him. "Not here, many ears."

Suddenly remembering where they were, the headmaster nodded, "Agreed, perhaps we could take this to the chamber next door? I'm sure my fellow professors would insist on being part of the conversation and not everyone would fit in my office at this point." At the boy's nod, nearly everyone at the head table rose, and began filing toward the door the champions had left through. They had barely taken a few steps when an angry shout had them all turning back.

"Headmaster!"

Tom turned quickly to see Snape, still held by the vines Wildmane had summoned to entrap him. From the expression on the sallow man's face, he was just short of murderous at this point. Glancing up and around the hall, most of the students seemed caught between bemusement and a bit of fear, though there were a pair of identical red-heads at one table, grinning broadly and giving them thumbs-up. With another sigh, he turned to his companion. "Wildmane," he said in the common tongue of the Eastern Kingdoms. "We're safe. Release him."

The wolf looked at him, then at the professor, then back again before giving a wary grunt. "What do you mean you won't," Thomas asked heatedly. You've got to, all that doesn't matter right now. If we don't get back soon, Snape will be the least of our worries, you know this. We need to let him go and find a way back home!" The wolf grunted again, and Thomas was about to reply when they were interrupted by the headmaster.

"Is there a problem, Thomas," the headmaster asked, doing his best to ignore the diatribe coming from his potions-master. We really do need to move this along if we can."

Thomas waved Dumbledore to silence as he continued arguing with his companion. Finally coming to an agreement with the wolf, Thomas addressed the headmaster in his broken English. "Wildmane says too angry, no release," he said pointing at Snape. "take wand, he let go."

"Headmaster!" Snape cried, his voice nearly a screech of indignation.

"I'm sorry Severus, He's right," said Dumbledore apologetically in as soothing a voice as possible. "It's only for a short while, surely." Gesturing to a tiny, bearded figure, the headmaster added, (Filius, if you would…" Nodding to the headmaster and giving an apologetic one to Snape, Professor Flitwick stepped over and gently took hold of Severus' wand, still clutched in his hand. With a slight pull, the charms professor attempted to wrest it free, having no luck he tried a bit harder and with less patience.

"Severus,"

Glaring at the Headmaster, Professor Snape finally relinquished his wand and moments later the vines holding him seemed to grow in reverse-time, back into the chair. Rising stiffly, the potions-master glared at the boy and his wolf, though the two missed it as they were again sharing in whatever language they used for communication between them.

"Please, this way." Beckoned Dumbledore as he finally led everyone out of the room. The Hall remained silent till the door closed, then bedlam ensued and the students of three schools began loudly debating just what had occurred. Who were these intruders and how were they connected to a boy that had vanished and had been presumed dead thirteen years ago? Everybody was excitedly wondering what would come next, except for a tiny blond girl at the Ravenclaw table. She'd silently watched the entire encounter with a curious feeling that she should know the visitors, but not how. As she sat there, nobody noticed as she went completely still and with a tiny, near-silent gasp, her eyes suddenly glowed faintly like the full moon.