When Harry awoke, he felt truly rested for the first time in a long while. Wartime had not readily lent itself to proper rest and recuperation, much less after the fall of the ICW. The Kaldorei had been very gracious in allowing him to stay in the room he'd occupied the past week, but Harry knew he'd have to find his own lodgings sometime in the near future.

First, however, he'd have to handle his other problems.

The influx of foreign magic had not yet stopped and it was throwing his magical senses into complete disarray. Darnassus and its occupants were flooded with ambient magic of many different kinds and Harry could sense and feel every last whit of it, should he not consciously suppress the sensations.
He'd thought it might've been a side effect of the portal collapsing as he passed through it, but had quickly dismissed the notion due to three contradictory facts.

Firstly, Tyrande had passed through at the same time as him and had not shown any adverse effects, or effects at all.

Harry was honestly astounded by the sheer mental resilience she was displaying. After being subjected to such torture, even the strongest people Harry had known would have needed some serious time to get their bearings – not to mention some form of mental healing to work through their experiences. From what he'd been able to gather, Tyrande had returned and taken the reins in leading her people, without even granting herself a day's rest. I should really talk to her about that, at some point. Even if she won't take a break, she'll at least have someone to talk to. Someone that knows what she's endured while imprisoned by these monsters.

Secondly, the excess of ambient magic abruptly escaping from a destroyed runic array generally took the shortest path back to the leyline – or leylines – it was summoned from; vaporizing everything that had the misfortune of crossing its way in the process. This would've included him, should he have been in said way. Thus, his condition stemming therefrom didn't seem to be a viable explanation.

Thirdly, the portal had collapsed; yet the influx of magic was, as of this moment, still an ongoing process. A destroyed ritualistic array couldn't have such an effect – or any effect at all really, it being depowered and magically inert.

He could only surmise that it had something to do with either him entering Darnassus, or Azeroth as a whole, which didn't really limit the possible explanations all that much. He simply knew too little about the magic of this world – he'd have to educate himself first.

There's nothing for it. I'll have to talk to some of the mages from this world. The thought caused him to grimace in resignation. Thats going to be... pleasant.

He had no wish whatsoever to be gawked at by the majority of the mages on this world, which meant the Kirin Tor were probably out of the question. From what he'd been able to gather from his discussion with Tyrande, they were first and foremost researchers and scholars, that had committed themselves – almost obsessively – to gathering all knowledge and artifacts they could get their hands on. According to Tyrande, they guarded everything jealously afterwards, all on the premise that 'some knowledge is too dangerous to be known to people that cannot be controlled', or some such hypocrisy. Harry, for his part, agreed wholeheartedly with that code of conduct, so they'd gain neither knowledge nor artifacts of any kind from him.

Maybe Tyrande knows someone I can put my trust into. Asking her won't hurt, either way.

Discarding his train of thought for the moment, Harry got up and ambled over to the mirror in the corner of his room. He still hadn't grown accustomed to his body's new proportions, so he moved a bit slow and unsure. That doesn't agree with me, at all. I'll have to do something about my coordination.
Looking at himself in the mirror for a second time was almost as startling as the first. His skin was a blue so dark, it was almost black. His facial features had remained mostly human, luckily. While rather pleasant looking on the body of the Kaldorei, Harry honestly didn't know what he'd do, had his ears grown that long. He'd readily admit that the eyes looked rather neat, though.

"Maybe I should cut my hair," he mused to himself, more to listen to his voice than actually having any inclination to vocalize the thought. His voice was very deep – seemingly filling the room with its sheer sonority – and accompanied by an echo, that sounded vaguely like thunder in the distance. The voice is definitely rather neat, as well.

"Talking to ourselves, are we?" came Tyrande's amused voice from the doorway. She was clad in green robes today, the decorations still arranged in her hair. Harry's own wardrobe was restricted to the clothes he'd been given and his old black cloak that he'd managed to save. The rest of his clothing had, sadly, not survived the magical discharge on his arrival. He'd certainly miss the numerous enchantments he had piled on them over the years.

He sent Tyrande a mischievous smile. "Good conversation is terribly hard to come by, don't you think?" She sent him a mocking glare at that. "If that is the case, maybe I shall remove myself from your esteemed presence. And here I was planning on accompanying you into the city for some time." She adopted a downcast mien and sighed sadly. "Well, I shall be going then. I bid you good fortune in finding your way through Darnassus' many pathways and alleys, all on your lonesome," she spoke and turned to leave.

"Woah! Wait a second! That's not what I meant, at all!" Harry backtracked hurriedly; eyes wide.

Tyrande just laughed at Harry, which got a sigh out of him. "Very funny," he deadpanned.

"If you cannot burden yourself with my humor, you might want to refrain from joking around yourself," she winked at him.

"Oh, come on. You love my kind of humor!" Harry argued jokingly.

"Well, we'd best be off. Are you decent to leave? We shall take our breakfast in the city proper, should that be agreeable to you." Tyrande brought them back on track, not acknowledging Harrys joke at all. Harry just shook his head with a smile. "Sure, I'm game."

"… game?" came the confused query.

"It's a saying from my world. My apologies," Harry tried to scratch the back of his neck abashedly, never having managed to break that habit. Unfortunately, his fingers got tangled in his hair and he swore under his breath. "This will take some getting used to."

At least I'm not blonde. The contrast would be horrible. For a moment, he envisioned Lucius Malfoy with his tone of skin.

The mental picture made him snicker.

"You seem to be in high spirits this morning," Tyrande commented.

Harry gave her a half-smile in return. "How can you even tell it's morning? I swear, I thought I'd slept the day away."

"You shall grow accustomed to it, in time. We Kaldorei were actually a nocturnal people for a long time, so we shrouded our home into perpetual twilight. The purpose was to be able to follow the same daily routine as the rest of Azeroth's races. Many Kaldorei are still strictly night-dwellers, however." she explained.

"I had actually wondered about that. Isn't it hard to go out into the rest of the world in all its sunny glory, though?" Harry wondered with interest.

"As I said, one grows accustomed to it, in time." She answered with a little smirk.

Harry once more offered her his left arm, which she graciously accepted. They moved through the temple, conversing softly about the history of Darnassus. Harry discovered, learning history from someone who had actually been there was much more engaging and interesting than reading dusty tomes of endless, useless, outdated knowledge.

Tyrande was laughing at a story he'd told about Bill falling into a pit of quicksand while exploring an ancient, abandoned city with him, when a distinct feeling of wrongness behind them suddenly assaulted Harry's senses, causing the fine hairs on his body to stand on end. He stopped abruptly and turned around. Tyrande stopped just in time not to stumble and turned looked at him questioningly, before turning into the direction he was facing.
For a long second nothing happened. Then a male Kaldorei with long, green hair, a grim expression on his face and glowing eyes the color of the sun, rounded the corner and moved towards them. His torso was mostly bare, though he wore a green robe from the waist down and green shoulderguards decorated with some kind of feathers Harry didn't recognize. Though still a good bit shorter than himself, the man was fairly tall for even his people.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? The High Priestess of Elune, consorting with this… abomination. The depths you manage to sink to truly boggle the mind, Tyrande," the man spoke in a mocking, disgusted, oily voice.

Tyrande's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Where she had been open and playful in that serene, quiet way of hers, both her face and voice were now cold and expressionless. "It is beyond me, how that should happen to be any concern of yours, Fandral. I am merely showing our esteemed guest around our beautiful home."

Fandral clicked his tongue once. "Whatever would poor Malfurion think, had he knowledge of this? Asleep for so long, yet here is the woman of his heart, on outings with other… men." His distaste at having to describe Harry as anything so civilized was clearly apparent in his voice.

Tyrande just sent him a cold glare. "Should there be nothing else you need, we shall be on our way."

"Oh, there are many things I want, dear Tyrande." Fandral took a long step towards her, causing alarm bells to go off in Harrys head. At the back of his mind, he acknowledged that he probably shouldn't get involved – Tyrande could handle herself, after all. This ‚Fandral' seemed to be someone fairly important as well, judging by how he dared to address the leader of his people.

But, the wrongness permeating this man seemed to spike at the last statement. It felt like Harry's magic was acutely aware that there was something about this man that didn't belong here – that was so twisted and revolting, even the ambient magic surrounding him seemed to withdraw slightly. Harry's senses went into overdrive and an involuntary shudder ran down his back. He wanted nothing more than to get himself and Tyrande as far away as possible from this oppressive, nauseating sensation.

Harry's breathing sped up. He had felt this before, in times he would rahter not remember, times where he'd had to unleash pure hell just to gain some modicum of control of the situation, doing things he never wanted to see or feel again in the process. But he liked Tyrande. Not strictly in a romantic way, though he'd readily admit that she was rather pleasant to look at. Deciding to trust his instincts and his magic, he didn't think - he acted.

No need for violence yet, though. That wouldn't exactly endear me to the Kaldorei. I doubt Tyrande would approve of violence in the Temple of Elune, regardless.

Calling his magic to him with all his might, eyes flaring and robes billowing, he quickly stepped into Fandral's path and spoke softly but resolutely. "Leave."
The man seemed clearly taken aback by the sheer power exuding from Harry and took an unsure half-step back at the curt command echoing around the corridor. When he made no move to leave, Harry hissed, almost slipping into Parseltongue: "Now!"

Fandral gulped a bit, before beating a hasty retreat. Whatever intent carried him here, he had obviously not been prepared for opposition. Harry let the magic die down once the man had turned the next corner, throwing a last glare Harry's way. He turned to Tyrande, who was looking at him a bit crossly. "I assure you Harry, I had the situation quite under control."

"I know, and I apologize for that. It's just…" Harry looked thoughtfully in the direction Fandral had fled. "Something about this one isn't right. I felt this… wrongness surrounding him. My magic was acutely repulsed by it, somehow." He hesitated for a moment. "I don't really know how to describe the feeling. But he certainly did go out of his way to insult me, as well. I don't think it would've painted a good picture for others like him, had I not shown at least some resistance."

"Why do you say that? Fandral never lets any opportunity to insult me pass him by, but he is usually more cordial to guests." Tyrande didn't seem convinced. Harry had to suppress smile at that. "And the two of you usually converse in Engli- err, common?" he quickly corrected himself.

Tyrande seemed stumped for a second, then softly shook her head. "I have been conversing in common with you too much. I did not actually realize, until now." She mock-glared at him. "You obviously have a bad influence on me."

"I aim to please, my lady," Harry chuckled.

Tyrande gave a quick smile, then looked at her feet thoughtfully. "Your magic reacted to him, you said?" At Harry's affirming grunt, she continued: "Negative reports about him have been coming in for a while now. Some of his underlings seem to think there is something distinctly off in the way he acts, as well."

"Who is he?" Harry inquired after a few seconds of silence.

"Fandral Staghelm is the current Archdruid of Darnassus. Fandral succeeded Malfurion, after the latter got lost in the depths of the Emerald Dream. I talked at length about the Dream yesterday, if you recall?"

"Yes, I remember. And who is this Malfurion? Staghelm seemed to think he could bait you by dropping his name," Harry inquired cautiously.

Tyrande gave a long sigh. "Malfurion and I fought side by side during the War of the Ancients and later in the Third War. We led the Kaldorei together for a time after it had concluded. Our relationship to one another is… complicated." With that she slung her arm back through his and gently pulled him into the direction they'd been heading in before the unpleasant encounter. "Come, the city awaits us. I confess, I am rather hoping for a table by the lake for our breakfast."

"That would be nice," Harry smilingly concurred. For his part, he considered the former topic firmly closed. His own love life was not all daisies and sunshine either and he'd readily admit that, while Tyrande and himself got on like a house on fire thus far, he didn't know her all that well or for any real length of time, yet. Which was a thought that reminded him of another topic he'd wanted to broach.

"Tyrande, I hope my being here doesn't take up too much of your time. Leading your people can't be a small task and I am sure I'm only adding to it."

"Worry not, Harry. The Kaldorei as a people are rather, shall we say, undemanding to lead most of the time. I mostly grant spiritual guidance to those looking for it and conduct diplomatic exchanges whenever needed," she responded kindly, clearly withholding much of the extent of her duties and responsibilities. Not that he'd expected much more, to be honest.

"Nonetheless, you have my sincere thanks. If there is anything I can do to repay you – anything at all – just let me know." Harry insisted, which got a smile out of her.

Darnassus turned out to be even more beautiful up close than it had been from afar. Kaldorei of all ages were bustling everywhere, but managed to somehow do so in an unhurried, serene way. As a result, the whole city exuded a feeling of calm tranquility. The buildings, with their playfully curved arches and roofs, added to the fantastical atmosphere, making Harry feel like he'd accidentally stepped right through the rabbit hole into Wonderland. When he'd voiced as much at breakfast – for which they'd gotten the desired table by the lake – Tyrande had sent him a small, thankful smile and said that humans generally didn't seem to appreciate the capital of the Kaldorei much.

"I believe it has to do with the quiescence and seclusion. Humans generally seem to be a hurried people, that do not put much stock in such things." She had mused idly.

Harry had chuckled a bit at that. "I'd guess that could be ascribed to the rather short lifespans, when directly contrasted with your people. They have less time to leave their mark upon history, so they strive to do as much as they can in the time they do have."
Tyrande had regarded him thoughtfully at that. "I have not thought about it from that perspective. You are privy to the fact that we are allied to the human kingdom of Stormwind, yes?"

"You explained as much yesterday." Harry affirmed, curious where she was going with this.

"I should rather like to hear an honest opinion on humans from one of their own. I realize, of course, that you are no longer strictly human – but still, you have been so for the greater part of your life," she inquired curiously.

Harry frowned a bit at that. "Well, I-…" he trailed off.

"I apologize if my query was too forward, Harry. I have no wish to cause a rift between your people and yourself," she fell in sincerely after a long moment of silence.

"My people…" Harry muttered to himself, looking out over the lake unseeingly, his mind at some point far away in time. After a few seconds, he turned his attention back to Tyrande, who seemed a bit uncomfortable now. "I did not wish to imply-…"

"There is no need to apologize. Though, I think – if you are looking for an unbiased opinion – I might not be the best choice, as an advisor. I fought people like these for many, many years with every last bit of power I've been given, Tyrande," he interrupted her gently.

She looked at him searchingly for a moment. "And exactly that makes your opinion so valuable, Harry. You have lived as a human and seen humans live around you all your life – yet, you have the expectation of eternity laying ahead of you, as well. No member of any of the elven-races could ever hope to gain your unique perspective."

Harry nodded and gathered his thoughts for a moment. "I think, the vast majority of humans is driven by their need for more – be it more money, be it power, knowledge, advancement, expansion. Yet, they fear all these things at the same time, when in posession of another. Most humans I knew were exceptionally single-minded; lay any amount of power into their hands and they'll exercise that power at every opportunity that promises any amount of personal gain or gratification, giving no thought whatsoever to the world they live in, or the people sharing that world."

He let out a heavy breath. "On the other hand, I got to know some good people, as well. They were the minority, however, and most of them wizards. Wizards, as a general rule, were quite an odd lot. They were, however, quite accepting of just about anything and everything – with a few exceptions that mostly pertained to dark magic and its use. The muggles" Harry spat the last word. "always feared and craved what they couldn't understand or have for themselves. That unfathomable greed led us into a war that lasted almost fifteen years and ended in the extinction of my people."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out shakily to rein in his emotions. After a moment, he continued in almost a whisper. "It was hell on earth, Tyrande. We magicals are far stronger, far more powerful, that's true – even in vastly inferior numbers. Muggle weaponry could not penetrate most specialized magical shields or wards that were developed in response to their initial attack and magic was far more versatile than their technology in any given situation, but…" Harry ran his hands over his face with a sigh, before placing them on the table and leaning heavily on his elbows.

"They struck first, and for the first year magicals all over the world had no real chance to act, only to re-act. The magical world didn't have any notable defenses to speak of, at that point. Most wards and shield charms that were in widespread use at the time, were developed, intended and used to avoid detection or redirect attacks of a magical kind, not physical objects." He shook his head lightly, lost in thought.

"Once a governing and commanding structure had finally been established, many wizards had already deserted to the enemy due to their own, twisted ideals, hopelessness or simple malignancy." He shook his head, gruesome memories replaying in front of his eyes, visible only to him. Tyrande softly took his hand on the table and regarded him with a sad look in her eyes. Meanwhile, the words were flowing from Harrys mouth in an avalanche and he just couldn't stop talking.

"Our tactics, our numbers, our abilities and weaknesses and hiding places – all was known to them within a few months. When they realized they couldn't hurt us with guns or bombs any longer, they conducted tests – experiments – on captured magicals." He pressed out in breathless disgust.

"Living, breathing human beings, brutalized in hopes of developing weaponry that would attack our bodies indirectly. Neither age or gender mattered to them in the slightest. They developed chemical and biological weapons with such incredibly destructive effects on the human body, I'm seriously astounded they didn't drive themselves into extinction alongside us." His tone of voice strongly suggested that he'd have thought that outcome preferable. "Not that they seemed to care much, should a few of their own be caught in the crossfire." He muttered after a brief silence.

"I had helped people before, of course – as I said, it's what I do – but I officially joined the war effort at that point. I fought and fought, sometimes with others, but more oftentimes alone." Harrys voice got very quiet at that point.

"I was a monster, Tyrande. I interrogated people, tore their memories right out of their minds and left them to waste away in insanity. I razed whole cities to the ground. I turned to the darkest of magics imaginable, used teachings and spells I swore myself to let never see the light of day… I killed so many."

He let out a shuddering breath before continuing bitterly.

"And all that for what? I was the single most powerful wizard on the planet, yet it changed nothing. All I got for my troubles was seeing my people and my friends die a wretched death in front of my eyes, wasting away in miserable agony for days, before finally succumbing to whatever hellish concoction these monsters had drawn up in their laboratories."
A lone tear had detached itself from his left eye, running down his cheek and into the stubble of his beard. Harry wiped it away with a slightly shaking hand and looked at Tyrande, who had gripped his right hand between hers tightly. Her expression was full of sad sympathy.

"You ask what humans are like. I say that depends on your point of view. Are you willing and able to tolerate the horrible things most of them are sure to do for whatever cause they deem worthwhile and justified? How far are you willing to go, for the distant promise of a peaceful future for your people?" Looking deeply into Tyrande's eyes, Harry could tell that she was unsettled by his words.

"Judging by what I've learned from you alone, I almost expect the humans of this world to travel down the same road as the ones on mine. If magic weren't so widespread and common on Azeroth, I am convinced they'd start hunting for mages to either bind them to their service or wipe them of the face of the world, so they couldn't oppose them." Harry stoically tried to get back on topic.

"Instead, they've set their sights on the other races of Azeroth. I'd wager even people hailing from an allied race, such as the Kaldorei, are not welcomed all too warmly in Stormwind. Something about that situation with this 'Defias Brotherhood' – stonemasons, right? – is off as well, but I don't really know enough to make any speculations grounded in fact."

Fucking hell, you just had to go and blow it, Potter. Go ahead and pour out your heart to a stranger with their own damn problems, why don't you?

Tyrande however murmured. "I am truly saddened to hear that you had to endure such horrific things, Harry. I hope you can find the support you need with me and mine. Time, in my experience, has a way of bringing such things into perspective. I would be honored, should you one day think me worthy of lending you the support you need."

Harry stared for a bit, before shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are incredible; you know that?"

"Of course, I do." She answered with a small smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Why did you ask about humans, anyway? From what I gathered, the alliance with Stormwind is strong and safe at the moment. Do you anticipate problems?"

She shook her head. "Not problems as such, no. It has, however, been brought to my attention by various ambassadors, that conducting diplomatic relations with the human race is a rather, shall we say, arduous task."

Harry cocked his head to the right. "How so?"

Tyrande sighed. "It relates directly to your earlier statement; the differences between the two races just seem to be too vast. Our cultures, lifespans, national interests – nothing seems to lend itself to finding common ground of any kind. As a result, settling collaborations has proven… vexing."

"I can follow, I think. I am not sure how I could be of help with that particular problem, though." After a moment he muttered. "Aside from threatening them into submission, of course."

That got a surprised chuckle out of Tyrande. With raised eyebrows she waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "That shall not be necessary, for the time being. You did say, however, that you enjoyed the benefit of a political education of some kind, did you not?"

Harry grimaced strongly at that. "'Enjoy' might be a bit excessive, but yes, I did. My competence in that area is mostly centered on the wizarding politics of my world, though. Even then, I never made much use of it, to be perfectly honest. I've never dealt with non-magical humans in a political setting before, Tyrande."

Tyrande nodded, trying not to think about the usual outcome of Harry dealing with non-magical humans. She sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments, Harry's hand still caught between her smaller ones. I can almost see the cogwheels turning in her head. He had to smile a bit at that.

"Still, would you consider accompanying our next diplomatic delegation to Stormwind? Having you there in an advisory position could nonetheless aid the diplomatic discourse." She asked thoughtfully after a while.

Harry sighed inwardly, but knew he could hardly refuse after everything Tyrande had done for him. "I can't promise you that I'll be of much help, but I'll at least try to aid your people in whatever capacity I'm able to."

At that, Tyrande softly squeezed his hand between hers once more, before pulling away and saying: "I am glad that I will have you by my side, Harry. We shall be leaving for Stormwind, by way of seafaring, in just about a week. It will allow you to witness more of what Azeroth has to offer, as well."

"Wait, 'we'? As in, you're going as well?" Harry asked dumbfoundedly.

"Yes, you shall accompany myself. Having received so many negative reports, I thought it imperative to get a clear picture of the situation at hand myself." She explained succinctly.

"Could've said so in the beginning." Harry muttered, which made her send a smirk his way.

Harry perked up when he remembered the other topic he had wanted to discuss. "There was something else I wanted to ask about." At her expectant look, he continued. "The influx of foreign magic – I told you about that, didn't I? – hasn't stopped, or even noticeably lessened yet. Usually, I'd make some educated guesses and work out a solution myself. Knowing as little as I do about the magical principles of this world however; I'd rather have someone a bit more… educated than myself by my side, to do so. Do you, perchance, know any mage you'd trust with such a thing?"

"There are no Kaldorei mages, in the genuine sense of the word." She responded slowly, staring at the table, obviously thinking as she spoke. "What you are requiring would be an arcane scholar, which can be found amongst the humans and gnomes – regarding the races of the Alliance, at least."

"Aren't most of those… you know, part of the Kirin Tor?" Harry queried cautiously.

"Not all of them, no. Most tend to work in conjunction with the Kirin Tor in some capacity, however. I suspect you might be in need of such a mage. Those keeping themselves entirely separate from the Kirin Tor tend to be of lower education and… repute." She answered with a small downturn of the corners of her lips.

Harry nodded, acquiescing to her greater knowledge. "Anyone you can recommend, perhaps?"

"We shall meet a young lady by the name of Jaina Proudmoore, once we reach Stormwind. She is usually present in such negotiations. As far as I can recall, she was part of the Kirin Tor some time ago, but gave up her position to lead the people of Theramore, which is a settlement in the Dustwallow Marshes. She is highly regarded in academic circles and might be of some help to you – provided she is indeed present, of course." Tyrande explained with an unreadable expression. "Do you think you can hold out that long?"

Harry grimaced. "To be honest, I can't really tell you. The influx of magic doesn't seem to actually do anything, apart from increasing the amount of magical power I can call upon and driving my magical sensing bonkers. I can't really promise it will remain that way, though."

Tyrande seemed to consider this carefully. "What, in your opinion, is the worst possible outcome should it start… doing something?"

Harry turned that over in his head for a bit.

The magic that made up part of each witch or wizard was ordinarily benign in nature. The magical being and its respective magical power lived in a form of symbiosis, in which the magic improved and guarded the wizard's physical body and the wizard, in return, used the magic to alter the fabric of reality around them with every act of magic they performed. Indeed, some scholars and philosophers of Harry's old world hadn't even made any notable distinction between the wizard and his magic, intertwined as they were on a basic level. Should a wizard – consciously or not – reject and suppress this intrinsic part of himself, the symbiosis would end and the magic usually grew parasitic in nature. In most cases, the magic would attempt to force its host to utilize it – resulting, ultimately, in turning him or her into an Obscurial.

This was the reason wizards didn't, for example, really have to work out to keep in shape, as a general rule. There were exceptions, of course – such as Horace Slughorn, who'd had something akin to a magical 'birth defect' that caused his magic to abandon his body and strengthen his mind instead. Many such anomalies had been present all over the magical world, such as Harry's and Albus Dumbledore's bad eyesight, sterility in some wizard's cases and of course squibs, who were a special case of even this phenomenon.
Oddly enough, sterility had exclusively been recorded in wizards – no witch had ever suffered from it in all of recorded history.

On the basic premise of Harry and his magic living in peaceful symbiosis, nothing much could actually go wrong that would harm him. The first issue was, that Harry was not sure if the magical influx actually added to his own intrinsic magic and became a part of it, or if it was akin to a temporary boost, in which case this would be unchartered territory, as such a thing had never happened before – to Harry's best knowledge, at least.

The other issue was; even if the magic wouldn't harm himself, there was no guarantee it wouldn't harm others, should it perceive them as a threat. Even though the magic's perception of such things was usually coupled to the perception of its host, Harry was not all too sure about that at the moment. Powerful as he was, he'd never had this much magic at his disposal. Without some serious training, he didn't entirely trust himself to adequately control it – and that was ignoring the fact that the influx hadn't even stopped yet.

When he explained as much to Tyrande, she contemplated his words for a few minutes. An easy silence developed between the two, each lost in their own thoughts while admiring the surrounding scenery. When she finally broke the silence, she seemed as serene as she ever was. entirely unperturbed by the heavy topic.

"In that case, we shall have to hurry your meeting with Jaina Proudmoore along. I will send a messenger by portal, to expound the situation and request her aid."

Harry let out a long breath. "I appreciate that very much, Tyrande." He pulled up the left corner of his mouth slightly. "I really don't know what I'd do without your help. I'd certainly be rather lost in this new world."

"As I have said before, Harry; Fate has led you here. She would not have thrust all this upon you without some help or guidance. Which reminds me – have we had the chance to discuss currency before, Harry?" Tyrande reiterated with a chuckle.

"No, I don't think so. What currency is used on Azeroth? Gold?" Harry inquired interestedly, wondering if his Galleons, Sickles and Knuts would be worth something here.

"Trade all over Azeroth is usually conducted with the exchange of coins of gold, silver or copper. One-hundred copper coins are equal in value to one silver coin, whereas one-hundred silver coins are equal to one gold coin in turn." Came the explanation.

"That makes a lot more sense than wizarding exchange rates, at least." Harry muttered with a small smirk. Tyrande laughed at that, remembering Harry's story about his first visit to Gringotts.

"To lend you some perspective; a filling meal will usually cost you about fifty copper coins, a room for the night in most taverns will be available for about forty to fifty silver coins. A well-made sword will cost you anything from five to several thousand gold coins, depending on material, quality and enchantments. The cost of a good, reliable mount depends solely on its speed, rarity and expected lifespan, but you will likely not find anything worthwhile for less than fifty gold coins." Tyrande stated concisely.

Harry turned the numbers over in his head as she continued to speak.

"I expect you shall need such a mount, at some point. Are you proficient in riding?"

"Well," Harry started excitedly. "I traveled with someone very skilled in horsemanship for a good while, so…" He gave Tyrande a few seconds to start smiling at his enthusiasm, then he deadpanned: "No."

Tyrande laughed at that for a good minute. When she'd calmed down, she wiped a tear from her left cheek and chuckled again. "I'm sure you will show yourself to be more than able, in time. I really must recommend our very own saber cats – which are, of course, enormous predatory felines, possessing arm-long fangs and an unmatched capability in taking down whichever prey they set their sight upon."

Harry gulped heavily at that and responded in a weak voice: "You know, I don't think I'll need a mount, after all. I'll just… walk."

Which only served to send Tyrande into another fit of laughter.

They conversed about lighter topics thereafter. Tyrande pointed out some people that Harry might have an interest in getting to know and individuals of note in either the Sentinel Army, the Circle of Druids or the Sisterhood of Elune. When she left him for a few moments to send a messenger to Jaina Proudmoore, Harry just enjoyed the peace and quiet that Darnassus had to offer. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh, crisp air.

He was torn form his quiet repose by a shrill cry and opened his eyes to look around for the source of the disturbance. He caught sight of a little girl, looking to be no older than – well, Harry couldn't actually make an educated guess, Kaldorei lifespans being what they were. The girl had silver hair that hung down to her shoulders and the long, pointed ears, silver eyes and lavender skin characteristic to her people. She was kneeling beside the path leading towards the inn Harry and Tyrande had taken breakfast at and holding her left knee in obvious pain. Seeing as she was not ten meters from him, Harry stood, moved over and knelt to the ground beside her.

She looked up to him in obvious curiosity, scanning his features, her gaze eventually coming to rest on his unusual eyes.

"Hello there, little one. Did you hurt your knee?" Harry asked softly.

A scandalized expression overtook her features as she responded: "My name is Saeria and I'm not little! I'm almost nine!"

An honest smile forced itself onto Harry's face at that declaration. "Of course, forgive me, my lady. May I be granted the honor of healing your knee for you?" he returned with a bow of his head.

So, the skin actually gets darker. Harry thought in triumph when the little Saeria blushed, but nodded at him. Let's see if I still have it in me. Showtime.

Harry held his left hand over the scrape on her knee with his fingers splayed theatrically, positioning his right hand so she couldn't see it and called the Elder Wand to it. First, he created a softly glowing sphere of light that cycled slowly through different shining colors, between the girl's knee and his left hand. She seemed fascinated by the display, so while she was distracted, he siphoned the dirt and blood off her knee with a non-verbal Tergeo, quickly followed by an equally non-verbal Episkey.
When he was done, the girl hadn't even realized her scrape had vanished, transfixed as she still was with the sphere of light. Harry slowly pulled his hand away and let the sphere rise higher until it floated above Saeria's head. Then, with the sound of a windchime, it dissolved into hundreds of little sparks in all the various colors it had previously cycled through. The sparks slowly descended towards the ground around both of them, causing Saeria to giggle and jump up and down in obvious glee for a few seconds.

She caught one of the golden sparks in her left hand, letting it bob softly above her palm. The other sparks slowly faded into nothing, but Harry let the one in her palm flare brightly, before it slowly turned into a small lily with golden petals. Saeria regarded the beautiful flower with wide eyes and an even wider, toothy smile.

Harry slowly reached out, took the lily by its stem and carefully placed it in her hair, just over her left ear. She grinned at him and ran over to the lake to look into its reflecting surface, turning her head this way and that to marvel at the flower in her hair.

Harry rose slowly from the ground, smile still on his face, when someone walked up beside him. The woman had a rather pleased expression on her face. Harry assumed her to be Saeria's mother, what with them sharing the silver hair and a few of their facial features. After few minutes, Saeria ran back towards him and hugged him around the legs, chanting something in Darnassian over and over all the while. Harry thought it might mean 'thank you', but didn't actually trust himself to make an educated guess.
He chuckled and patted her head for a second. Saeria stepped back and looked up at him. "Are you a priest?"

"No, my lady. I am a mage."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But mages can't heal! Everyone knows that!" she exclaimed. At that moment her mother softly said something in Darnassian, to which Saeria responded in turn, then she gave him one last grin and ran off down the path.

The woman smiled softly at Harry, bowed her head and enunciated softly, but clearly: "Shaha Lor'ma." Then she moved swiftly to catch up with Saeria. Well, now I know what 'Thank you' means, at least.

Harry looked after her for a second, only to see Tyrande sitting back at the table he had vacated, smiling at him.

Harry walked over and sat down on the chair across from her and returned her smile. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, until Harry spoke: "I started doing that a few years into my travels around my old world. The children always loved it. It works wonders to distract them from the pain and cheer them up. Also, less crying."

Tyrande's smile widened. "You seem to do well with children."

Harry laughed. "No, I'm just good at healing and distracting people. I wouldn't know what to do with a child for longer than a few minutes."

"Your being here will be a considerable boon to mages all over Azeroth, I can tell already. Ever since the War of the Ancients, my people have looked upon magic-users with great suspicion. Actions such as this – the repairing of the bridge, as well – might just change their perception, in time." Tyrande stated thoughtfully.

Harry nodded after a bit of thought. "Also," he added. "it will hopefully increase my personal standing with your people. At the moment, I'm still a stranger. A tolerated one, to be sure, but still a stranger."

"Cunning," Tyrande smirked. "Concerning the matter of your magical problem, Jaina Proudmoore has graciously offered her expertise. By account of the messenger, she seemed thrilled with the challenge your condition seems to present." At that she shook her head softly and Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter something about mages and messing around with magic of unknown danger under her breath. "She eagerly awaits your arrival, later this afternoon."

"That's rather short notice, I have to admit."

"A scroll of teleportation has been sent back to us, by way of the messenger." Tyrande explained. "It will not take a moment and you shall arrive at your destination."

"In that case," Harry stated grimly. "I'll probably need to go shopping for some clothing."

Laughing at Harry's grim expression, Tyrande stood and bid him to follow her deeper into the city. Harry once more offered his arm, his demeanor akin to a man walking to the gallows.

To Harry's immense relief, the shopping trip didn't take too long. He bought several sets of clothing, stowed them away in his dimensional pocket and before he knew it, they were slowly strolling back towards the temple. He stopped them gently about a hundred meters from the entrance and looked over at Tyrande.

"Should this take up the whole week, how will we go ahead concerning the diplomatic gathering in Stormwind?"

"Your health takes precedence, Harry. Should your research indeed take up the whole week, then so be it. I am sure you will be able to accompany Lady Proudmoore to Stormwind, once she travels there herself." Tyrande said, seemingly supremely unconcerned.

Too unconcerned for Harry's tastes. "And, this Jaina Proudmoore… you trust her?"

"She is reputed to be an honest and tolerant young lady. I trust her to act in the best interest of…"

"Tyrande," Harry broke in a bit forcefully. "do you trust her?"

Tyrande looked down at her feet with an emotionless façade. After almost a full minute of uncomfortable silence, she took a heavy breath, opened her mouth to speak-

It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt: Azeroth itself was seemingly crying out to him in absolute desperation. There was no mistaking it; this world was in pain. Sensations he'd never felt suddenly caught up to him, crept up his spine and demanded his attention, making him stagger.

The very earth under his feet shuddered. A earsplitting roar echoed over the landscape, making him clap his hands over his ears in pure instinct, and Harry knew; something was wrong. Very, very wrong.