c23

Sylvanas shared this with no one, but she had a slight fear of going to sleep. Not because of the habitual nightmares that plagued her dreams, but because the loss of consciousness reminded her far too much of dying. It often resulted in her lying awake for hours, unable to rest as her body refused to relax, until she was so tired that she just passed out.

She dealt with this by burying herself in work, of which there was plenty. The remaining population of Quel'Thalas was significantly smaller than the Forsaken had been, but they had many more needs. There was no end to the paperwork.

Well, there could have been an end, if Sylvanas hadn't specifically requested that more of it be diverted her way. It was better than sitting in the dark and brooding.

A feathery flutter announced the arrival of a raven on her window sill. The big black bird sat there and stared at her with beady green eyes.

Sylvanas frowned. Ravens might be common everywhere, but they generally stayed away from Silvermoon because there was little in the way of food to scavenge. And those eyes were kind of familiar…

"Harry?" She asked suspiciously.

The raven hopped off the window sill, transforming into a large man mid jump. "In the flesh!"

"Why are you here this late at night?" She did not appreciate him showing up in her quarters without any warning, but she wasn't going to be hostile about it… yet.

"You know all those favors you owe me?" He grinned widely. "I've come to collect on one."

"And what form is this favor to take?" So help her, if he was going to ask what it looked like he was going to ask for, she would castrate him.

"I want you to…" He purred sensually and her eyes narrowed in a glare. "Write a letter."

Thrown off kilter, Sylvanas blinked as her assumptions were invalidated. "A letter?"

"Aye, a letter. A collection of words, structured into sentences, structured into paragraphs, meant to be delivered to a specific individual. A letter."

The former Banshee Queen took a deep breath to cool her temper, but didn't bother to hold back with her glare. "A letter to whom?"

"Thrall." Harry replied airily. "You've decided to swear to Azeroth, right? As the Warchief, Thrall should be there for this momentous event."

"We were already going to invite him."

"Yes, but you have to do it the proper way."

"This is another one of your schemes." Sylvanas realized.

"Naturally. Did you think I only came here in the hopes that I'd catch you wearing a transparent silk nightgown?"

Sylvanas growled and elected to ignore that. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of reacting, the way Proudmoore kept doing. "What are you hoping to accomplish."

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." Harry evaded glibly. "Now please, break out the quill and parchment. The wording on this has to be just right if we want to ensure maximum chances of success."

There was a part of her that wanted to be spiteful and refuse him, but even Sylvanas knew that was just the part that hated being indebted to him and was lashing out. In the grand scheme of things, writing a letter was nothing and if he wanted to spend her debt in that way then all the better.

"Fine."

XXXXX

The Battle Harem was assembled!

… for ceremonial purposes.

Harry sighed in boredom as he listened to Lor'themar Theron give a speech about the trials and tribulations the people of Quel'Thalas had gone through in recent years, and then segue into what Harry had done for the Forsaken and was now doing for them. It was a decent speech that nicely glossed over all the political sausage-making behind the scenes and left only the shiny parts. He even made the oath they would swear to Azeroth sound noble instead of transactional.

Maybe Harry was just being overly cynical?

His eyes panned over to the real reason he was here; Thrall and his plus one, Garrosh Hellscream.

That potential problem had been found and joined the Horde while he was with Azshara and had already been made one of the Warchief's closest confidants. Now he was here, because Thrall wanted to 'convert' him to his way of thinking.

Just As Planned.

Thrall stepped up once Lor'themar was finished. The Warchief had enough political instincts to realize that he needed to cultivate a good relationship with the elves if he wanted to keep them in the Horde, so he pretty much had to be here.

But it wasn't why he was actually here. The letter he had Sylvanas write had been carefully edited with a few choice phrases and a suggestion to bring along anyone he wished, phrases designed to invoke notions of cooperation and harmony with other races.

It hadn't been a sure thing, but Thrall fell for it and brought Hellscream along. Said orc was currently looking bored and irritable. Perfect.

Thrall made a speech of his own, one that was actually more charismatic than the Lor'themar's, amusingly enough. The Regent Lord was a man of grim duty, so everything he said tended to come out as grimly dutiful. Thrall, on the other hand, had genuine passion and belief in the future and the goodness of people. He was actually winning over some of the crowd, who otherwise had plenty of reason to hold grudges against the orcs from previous wars, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding.

He would have made for a dangerous political opponent if he wasn't constantly busy putting out the fires that his people started. It was like watching a more fighty Jesus take over the Mongol Horde after Genghis Khan died, and it was hilarious.

Once the speeches were done, it was time to start swearing the oaths. Lor'themar went first, approaching the golden statue of Azeroth. It was about half his size and standing on a slightly raised dais to make up for the difference.

Harry could have easily made the statue human-sized or any size at all, but he had chosen to go smaller for reasons beyond just needing to mine less gold. It was a petty psychological trick, but a tiny and cute statue appeared less threatening than a looming giant statue, even if they intellectually knew that Azeroth was a planet-sized titan. It would make them feel more in control.

Lor'themar grabbed the statue's outstretched hand and spoke with a firm voice. "I swear to protect Azeroth and renounce all who would do her harm."

And he immediately bent over with a pained grunt, his singular functional eye glowing brightly with fel energies for a moment before being burned away, leaving only the glowing blue characteristic of the high elves.

It wasn't just his eyes, though. Even his face looked subtly less harsh. The Twisting Nether made people uglier, go figure.

"I am restored!" Lor'themar announced, drawing some cheers from the crowd.

After that, the elves were more eager to go through the little ritual. The leaders went first, to assuage people that it was safe. By the time their four leaders had gone through it, the general population was pressing close in their eagerness.

Most of them. Harry spotted quite a number of suspicious skulkers hanging in the back.

Warlocks. At least some of them were bound to have sold their souls to the Burning Legion already. Others would know that they would lose that avenue to power if they swore the oath.

Thrall approached as the formal stiffness relaxed a bit, Hellscream following behind like a scowling shadow.

"Harry." The orc greeted, nodding at him and then at the girls. "Ladies."

"Thrall." He replied, a small grin pulling at his lips. "How are things going in Outland?"

"It could be better." He admitted. "Even if we have a common enemy, both Horde and Alliance find themselves fighting Illidan Stormrage and his followers more often than not. Negotiations have effectively broken down completely."

"So I've heard." Harry sighed in disappointment. "I would say that all that time he spent in prison has damaged his ability to understand other people, but Tyrande and Malfurion assure me that he was always like that."

Honestly, would it kill the stupid demon elf to pay more attention to his PR? Harry hated dealing with it too, but it had to be done unless you were overwhelmingly powerful in comparison to everyone else. Or planning to be the ultimate evil.

Want to fight fire with fire? You'll drive off the moderates and the squeaky clean heroic types, but okay.

Well-intentioned extremism? No problem. Could be worked with as long as it was properly channeled.

Enslaving people because you needed the manual labor? Is it really that hard to offer incentives? Outland was a shithole for fuck's sake. Setting yourself up as a benevolent ruler would have taken minimal effort and a lot of those people had reasons of their own to work against the Burning Legion. Or hell, just use all those warlocks you had in your faction to enslave more demons to do it if you can't be bothered.

But no, Illidan Stormrage goes for the lowest of low hanging fruit. For someone so old, he was incredibly impatient. Maybe if Harry had gotten to him sooner, or if Azshara hadn't taken up months of his time, he could have salvaged the situation. It would have required that the big horny bastard listen to him, which he had been warned was not a thing Illidan was good at doing, but it might have been doable.

Now all he could do was take back the advice he had offered at the Theramore Summit, accept that Illidan was too far gone and support killing him. What a waste. His faction would have made excellent sacrificial pawns.

"Will you go to Outland yourself?" Thrall asked.

"No, my place is here, with Azeroth." Harry smiled, glad that he was not being compelled to play hero across every world and dimension. He'd never get anything done if it was like that.

"You're the wizard that killed many of the Warsong Clan in Ashenvale." Hellscream growled, apparently no longer able to keep silent.

"I prefer to think of it as pest control." Harry's smile turned cruel and mocking, and his voice was deliberately pitched to carry. "That pack of honorless swine was asking for it."

"Harry?!" Thrall asked with alarm, no doubt confused about the sudden antagonism.

Hellscream, on the other hand, predictably swelled with rage and took a threatening step forward. Harry ignored him and turned to answer Thrall's implied question.

"I did tell you that they were cutting down trees just to provoke the night elves into a battle." He said mildly, noting with satisfaction that people were taking notice of the confrontation. "What can you call that kind of bloodthirsty behavior if not dishonorable? They don't seem to have learned anything from Grom Hellscream's mistakes."

"My father died to free the orcs from Mannoroth!" Garrosh bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth.

"That just proves that the Warsong Clan is a lost cause, if they're too weak to control their impulses even without the demon fire in their veins." Harry wiped the spit off with a disgusted grimace. Getting sprayed had not been part of the plan. "I suppose it makes sense that they'd make you their leader. You're just like them even though your skin is still brown."

"You dare?!" Hellscream bellowed in his face. "Face me in Mak'gora if you stand by your words!"

Harry bared his teeth at the orc, partially to hide his grin. Angry meatheads like this one were almost painfully easy to manipulate. "You think I'm scared of that big ugly face of yours? I'll beat the shit out of you, right here, right now. No weapons, no armor, no clothing and no magic."

"Agreed!" Hellscream growled happily and stalked off, not for a moment thinking that he'd been had.

"You didn't have to do this." Thrall said grimly, speaking in past tense because he knew it was too late to take it back.

"Yes I did." Harry disagreed and proceeded to lie magnificently. "If I didn't put him in his place right away, it wouldn't be long before he started causing trouble on my doorstep."

"You think you can beat him? He is a mighty warrior." Thrall changed the subject.

"With weapons? No chance." He admitted. "But if it's just our fists, then it's a whole different animal."

The orc might be huge and strong, but he didn't have high speed regeneration or an indestructible skeleton.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take off this armor."

XXXXX

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Colette asked dubiously. "I know these bodies you made are tough, but facing an orc in unarmed combat was widely considered to be suicide during the First and Second wars."

"Sometimes, the best laid plans of mice and men require you to get the stuffing beaten out of you." Harry replied sagely, checking to see that the loincloth was firmly secured.

"Only you would come up with a plan that requires you to get beaten up." Jessir rolled her eyes.

"Just make sure you give as good as you get." Arko added sternly, though there was an amused lilt to her voice. "I won't be able to find you attractive if you just let that big brute wail on you."

"Freshly married and you're already leveraging sex to get what you want?" Harry teased.

"I think she's just trying to hide the fact that violence turns her on." Luna theorized, looking at the others for support. "Did you notice how she's always in the mood after a good fight?"

"Now that you mention it, all the times that we had sex before meeting you was right after a fight or a spar." Jessir joined in with a grin.

"I hate you all." Arko muttered, blushing bright purple.

"Now you're just being cute." Harry smirked at her. "Why don't you kiss me like you want me to beat an orc half to death?"

He pulled on her hand to bring her into an embrace, which she resisted only for an instant before giving in and engaging in a liplock with him. It was definitely not a good luck kiss or a worried kiss. No, it was an aggressive, almost violent exchange intended to get a man fired up.

"That's what I'm talking about." He growled once they broke apart, a grin pulling at his lips at how fierce her silver eyes were.

Then he was pulled into a similar kiss with Jessir, though it didn't last quite as long.

"I want you to win, too." The huntress admitted with a smirk, and then Colette took her turn.

"Give him a few hits to the kidneys for me as well." The former death knight murmured.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Luna when she only smiled placidly at him instead of claiming a kiss of her own.

"I don't want to encourage your violent tendencies, but I don't want to ruin your groove either." She explained. "I'll kiss you to make your boo-boos feel better after it's over."

"Fair enough."

The preparations complete, Harry swaggered over to the 'fighting arena', which was really just a cleared space in Silvermoon's main plaza. It was surrounded by muttering elves, with the general tone being discontent at the disruption.

Perfect.

And Garrosh still had no idea that he was being used. The Mag'har orc sneered as Harry approached. "Finally done fooling around with your women?"

Harry smiled back whimsically. "There's no need for such displays of envy at our racially superior good looks. I'm sure orc women find you plenty attractive."

Hellscream's eyes bulged with rage and he looked a second away from rushing forward. Thrall noticed it, too, and intervened. "Enough!" The Warchief bellowed loudly. "This is a Mak'gora issued by Garrosh Hellscream of the Warsong Clan to Archmage Harry, Speaker of Azeroth, for claims made against his clan and father. No armor, clothing, weapons or magic is permitted. The duel is to unconsciousness or death."

Hmph, crafty of him to leave out the details of which claims exactly had been made, but no matter. He would just spread rumors about it later. Either way, the elves around them were already murmuring discontently about the ban on magic use. Very good.

"Are both fighters ready?" Thrall asked.

"Ready!" Garrosh growled.

"Ready." Harry said calmly, putting up his fists.

"Then begin!"

It was only Hellscream's extreme predictability that allowed Harry to dodge the charge. His opponent had cleared thirty feet of distance in less than two seconds. He tried to take advantage of the opening to land a punch, but Hellscream put one massive forearm in the way to block it and retaliated with a lightning fast counter with his other arm, forcing Harry to disengage and move with the punch to bleed off its momentum.

Hellscream had overextended a bit, expecting to land a solid blow, so Harry was able to recover and attack low, driving his fist into the spot where a human would have their kidneys.

Hellscream only grunted and jerked back, before managing to nail him in the temple with an elbow, sending Harry stumbling back from the force of the hit.

With the initial exchange over and some space between the two fighters, both reassessed the situation. Harry had always known that this was going to be a hard fight, despite his custom made body. The orc was huge and powerful, only slightly shorter than him and vastly more muscular. More importantly, he was a warrior, specializing in melee combat and whatever magical potential he might have had was turned inward, bolstering his physical abilities.

Hellscream, on the other hand, had a calculating look in his beady eyes. Despite seeing that Harry wasn't some reedy wizard, he had clearly not expected much of a challenge. He would be less reckless from now on.

That being said, he was still an angry orc and not inclined towards patience, so he went back on the offensive after about two seconds. This time he didn't charge, but prowled forward menacingly.

Harry took up a proper martial arts stance to meet him. Practicing with Garona and the other girls in the Emerald Dream had shaken some of the rust off his skills and this fight would probably finish the job.

Hellscream came in with a right hook, but it was more of a probing attack than a committed blow. Harry easily slapped it away and retaliated with a low kick to the knee joint. His orcish foe seemed to find that infuriating and swung again, getting the same result on the other side.

Harry deliberately put a shit-eating grin on his face as his opponent roared in frustration and disengaged. As an aggressive fighter focusing on upper body strength and not much in the way of trained technique, the low kick was the singularly most annoying move to deal with for Hellscream.

As was proven when the orc bellowed and started running, not as fast as his initial charge, but still too fast to take lightly. Harry couldn't risk attempting another low kick, so he braced himself for the barrage of vicious punches.

Still, Hellscream surprised him when instead of throwing a punch, he grabbed him by the wrist. The orc's hands were as huge as the rest of him, easily at least 50% larger than Harry's own not-inconsiderably sized ones. There would be no escaping that grip with brute force.

The other hand was already coming down for a punch to the face and he was in a bad position to block it, so Harry just hunkered down and put his free arm over his head. Even then, the huge fist still rattled his braincase. Taking advantage of the closeness, he retaliated by slamming knee strikes into Hellscream's tree-trunk thick thighs.

It was brutal and completely without finesse, and after the third hit to his head Harry knew that he couldn't sustain this. Enough brain damage would knock even him out eventually. Taking a risk, he pushed forward to disrupt Hellscream's balance for a moment and dug his fingers deep right into the tendons responsible for moving the thumb.

Hellscream snarled in pain and grabbed his other wrist, then went for a brutal headbutt.

Which he instantly regretted as his regular boney skull proved inferior to Harry's indestructible elementium one. It would have been different if he'd managed to hit him in the nose as he'd been aiming for, but Harry was no stranger to headbutts and presented his forehead instead. Stumbling back, the orc let go of his wrists and rubbed his aching head, smearing blood all over his face from where the skin broke.

Harry rubbed at his own head as he felt the mild concussion being fixed by his regeneration. There was a little blood on his face as well, but the small cut had sealed itself before more than a few drops could escape.

For the sake of showmanship, he made a wide circle with his arms and ended up in a completely fake martial arts pose, just so that he could give Hellscream a 'come at me' gesture with his fingers.

The orc did so with enthusiasm, coming in with another overwhelmingly powerful assault of his meaty fists. Harry had gotten a decently good measure of him by now, though. There was no trickery or real technique to Hellscream's attacks, just brute force smashing through any defense.

As the orc's fist neared, Harry abruptly changed his methodology. Instead of trying to deflect the blows, he started using his elbows to block them head on. The small, pointy end of the elbow was a bad spot to punch; not only did it fuck up your fingers as the recoil of the blow was focused by the small strike area, but your wrist also tended to bend awkwardly as your fist slipped up or down.

Hellscream learned this the hard way, but he was too angry to let up. To be fair, a single elbow block didn't do much damage to him, but it was going to add up. In the meanwhile, Harry continued slipping in low kicks to his legs whenever he could, slowly accumulating damage to his muscles, nerves and joints.

Despite being an idiot elsewhere, Hellscream was actually a great fighter with excellent instincts. It took him less than a dozen punches to see that he wasn't going to have an easy time smashing through that kind of defense, so he threw a feint that fooled Harry long enough for him to duck low and slam a punch into his side.

The hit was below the solid metal plate protecting his upper chest and it both did a lot of internal damage, as well as forcing the air out of his lungs, leaving him wide open for a right hook straight to the jaw. If said jaw wasn't made of metal, there was little doubt that it would have shattered under the blow and probably sent half his teeth flying. As it was, it still sent him rolling across the ground.

Harry got back on his feet quickly and prodded at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. The flesh had been split open against his teeth, but he felt the last of the small injury heal swiftly. The bruised organs in his abdomen did the same. He spat out the blood that had filled his mouth and retook his stance.

Opposite to him, Hellscream was flexing his fingers, clearly feeling the damage from the elbow blocks. The look in his eye spoke of frustration and even some grudging respect, a sentiment that Harry wasn't inclined to return. He was a bit too old to be impressed by the ability to punch good.

Once again, Harry beckoned Hellscream to attack, deliberately refusing to show the aggression that he knew would be taken for granted in a Mak'gora between two orcs. Angered, Hellscream roared and charged forward again, big feet stomping against the stone plaza.

Harry had been expecting another punch, and at first it seemed that's what he was going to get, but the orcish warrior proved that he was capable of learning. Instead of smashing his fingers against the elbow once again, he turned the punch into a grapple.

Shit. Harry observed intelligently. Hellscream's strength advantage and massive hands gave him a significant edge in a grappling match, even if he knew a few clever techniques that the orc probably didn't.

Any thought of actually using those techniques went out the window when Hellscream didn't actually try to grapple him, but instead pulled his arm to full extension, twisted it around and then slammed the fist of his free hand on the elbow.

If done to just about anyone else, that might very well have torn his arm off at the elbow, never mind breaking it. As it was, the elementium bones resisted the vicious blow with nothing more than bruised muscle and some strained tendons, both of which quickly regenerated.

Hellscream on the other hand, grunted in surprise when his ploy failed, the kinetic energy of his strike reverberating back up his own arm as much as Harry's.

Much less surprised since it was his arm and he knew what the deal was, Harry took the opportunity to hammer a brutal punch into Hellscream's exposed armpit, sending the orc stumbling back in genuine pain.

"You cheat!" Hellscream bellowed in fury.

"Ah, what are you talking about?" Harry smirked, noticing the discontent murmurs of the crowd. "I haven't cast any spells this entire fight. Don't be a sore loser."

"Why did your arm not break!?" Hellscream demanded.

"Metal bones, son." The wizard's smirk widened, holding up an arm and casting a spell to turn the flesh transparent for a few seconds, displaying the gleam of forged elementium beneath. "You can't break me."

That little spell was technically a violation of the rules and could have been used to disqualify him, but if you had to give the orcs credit for one thing, it was that they had more pride than that. No orc would even think to call foul on a technicality.

It was a sort of honesty that Harry would have liked, if the average orc wasn't a bloodthirsty idiot easily manipulated by anyone even moderately clever, such as literally every threat to Azeroth ever. Some of them might say that they learned their lesson and Thrall was doing his best to return them to their shamanistic roots, but Harry had some trouble trusting any race that thought it was a good idea to drink any kind of glowing green liquids, much less demon blood. Or trusting obviously shady magic users with glowing red eyes, a new and unheard of skin condition and bone spikes growing out of his back.

Seriously, how did Gul'dan even get a word out before someone buried an axe in his skull?

The answer was because orcs are too stupid to live. Harry was only speculating on this point, but he would not be at all surprised if the orc warlock had even been mostly upfront about the costs and benefits of drinking demon blood. Morons like Grom Hellscream and Blackhand seemed like the types to stop listening after they heard the benefits.

Garrosh Hellscream was a man cut from the same cloth.

There were a myriad of possible reactions he could have had to the revelation of Harry's metal bones. He could have been confused. He could have been curious. He could have even been properly impressed.

But this was Garrosh Hellscream, and he was what you might call 'emotionally overspecialized'. He operated on a narrow bandwidth. He was a simple guy with simple solutions for complex problems.

He was an angry asshole.

He roared and charged again, swinging his meaty fists with wild aggression. Harry stuck to the same strategy of using his elbows to block the punches and launching a low kick whenever he could slip one in. This time around, he was also hypervigilant for any attempts to grapple him. It did mean having to tank a few more punches as he put less attention towards attacks that couldn't be turned into grapples, but that was fine. In a battle of attrition like this, the guy who could regenerate wasn't going to lose.

Unlike before, there was no backing off and reassessing the situation. Hellscream was determined to relentlessly pummel him into the ground. Even as the damage to his hands and legs accumulated, he didn't relent, fully gripped in a blood rage. Even as one of his fingers broke, he stubbornly ignored the pain and kept punching.

But he couldn't ignore it when a sloppy punch allowed Harry to throw a counter-punch, not at his body or face, but at his approaching fist. The two fists crashed together, one indestructible and the other already messed up. Hellscream came out worst, his own great strength assuring that most of the bones in his hand got wrecked.

Harry was sent skidding back from the force of the blow, feeling the strained muscles in his entire arm healing. He had taken quite a few powerful hits and looked beaten half to hell, but thanks to his regeneration he was actually perfectly fine. Opposite to him, Hellscream was cradling his ruined hand and glaring at him furiously, which made Harry smirk. They both knew that the match had been decided.

Neither of them said anything, but this time Harry went on the offensive, deliberately staying on Hellscream's right side, the side with the ruined hand. Hellscream did his best to compensate, but Harry continued circling to the left and sending low kicks at his right leg. With only one arm, there was't much the orc could do about it and his attempts were easily blocked.

It took way longer than it would have for a human, but Hellscream's leg was eventually so damaged that he began limping, which made it even easier to circle around him. A few more hard kicks to the knee and it gave out, forcing him to the ground.

After that it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Harry was able to approach at leisure and started punching the big orc in the face. He refused to concede defeat and still tried to defend himself, but was in no condition to do so.

One final punch laid Hellscream out cold and Harry took a deep breath.

There were no cheers from the crowd of spectators, which was perfect. Being largely civilians, he knew that they weren't sure what to make of this brutal display. The combatants among them might be able to relate to the idea of a duel to settle differences, but the average elf was too 'sophisticated' for it. It would have been easier if it was a duel with swords or spells, but two mostly naked guys beating each other senseless?

There was only one elf here that he was sure had enjoyed that.

"Was that good enough for you?" He asked Arko teasingly.

The warrior-turned-paladin had flushed cheeks and a certain hunger in her eye that she wasn't very good at hiding. "It was… adequate."

Harry responded to this by throwing her over his shoulder and turning to the others. "Excuse us, I need to demonstrate some wrestling techniques to Arko."

She wasn't the only one whose blood was up

"Have fun!" Luna wished them happily. "Don't forget to do the mating press, that's one of my favorites."

"Luna." Arko moaned in embarrassment over Jessir and Colette's giggles and assurances that they would handle things here.

XXXXX

"What games is he playing this time?" Sylvanas demanded bluntly, having arrived just a moment after Harry teleported out with that night elf paladin of his over his shoulder.

"What makes you think he is playing some kind of game, sister?" Vereesa asked with a frown.

She and Rhonin had come to watch the swearing of the oath as well. Part of that was because Sylvanas had asked her sister to have her archmage husband thoroughly investigate this solution of Harry's.

Not that she thought Rhonin would find anything that Rommath had missed, but with this kind of thing it can't hurt to get a second opinion. Or a third. Or a fourth.

Sylvanas was not a trusting woman.

Still, nobody had found any tricks or traps. Harry had even handed off all his notes and gave them a step by step explanation of the entire process. No matter how anyone tried, they could find no deceit, just like it was with the Restoration Serum for the Forsaken.

And yet, Sylvanas was quite sure that Harry had ulterior motives.

"Because he specifically wanted Hellscream here. He showed up in my quarters some time ago and called in a favor so that I would write a letter to his specification that was meant to manipulate Thrall into bringing him along." Sylvanas explained with a scowl.

"You're completely right." Luna confirmed with a nod, having just come back after offering to heal Hellscream and teleporting Thrall back to Orgrimmar.

"Really?" Rhonin was surprised. "But what did this spectacle achieve?"

"I believe Harry called it 'culture shock'." Colette chimed in amusedly.

"I'm not familiar with the term." The leader of the Kirin Tor frowned.

"It's what happens when someone gets dropped unprepared into the middle of a culture with very different values and ways of doing things." Luna explained helpfully. "Most people don't handle it well."

"He wanted an audience." Sylvanas realized. "To show our civilians how different and brutish the orcs are. He is trying to create pressure on us to distance ourselves from them."

It had been one of the things she had suspected when they couldn't find anything wrong with the Idol of Azeroth, but she hadn't been able to see how. The Mak'gora hadn't disturbed her in the slightest, but she had seen much worse than one ugly duel. The mutters and whispers going through the crowd told her that the civilians were less sanguine about it. They had already not been especially pleased with the decision to join the Horde in the first place.

"What is this?" Vereesa asked in surprise, staring between Harry's women and her. "Harry is trying to drive a wedge between the blood elves and the Horde?"

She might be surprised to hear that, but her sister's tone was also pleased. Little wonder there – the addition of Quel'Thalas to the Horde had been a major point of contention between them. Vereesa despised the orcs and thought it was a betrayal of everything the high elves had once stood for to ally with them. She had been trying to convince Sylvanas to break away from them and make common cause with the Alliance instead ever since the Forsaken were restored.

"It's more like he's trying to make sure that Quel'Thalas doesn't have to rely on the Horde for protection." Jessir corrected. "He really doesn't want the Horde to have access to any mages."

"Wise of him." Vereesa immediately supported. "No good could come of that."

"Is he perchance intending to make himself the only source of magical knowledge for the Horde." Sylvanas asked suspiciously. "I can't help but notice that his tower is built rather close to Orgrimmar, and that he is on friendly terms with Thrall."

If Harry managed that, then he would have secured influence with the Warchief by making himself a valued advisor in fact, if not in name. And he already had a cordial relationship with the leaders of the night elves and dwarves. He was also trying to seduce Jaina Proudmoore and had amassed quite a debt from Quel'Thalas. He even had some kind of strange friend-enemy relationship with Queen Azshara. That was an awful lot of connections for a man who had barely been on Azeroth for a year.

"Huh, you know he actually might be planning to do exactly that." Colette mused. "I'll have to ask him."

"Good catch, Sylvanas, I didn't even notice that angle myself." Luna complimented. "It's so nice to see Harry enjoying himself again. He hasn't been this enthusiastic about anything in centuries."

"You are being remarkably open about it." Rhonin noted with a puzzled frown.

"It isn't a secret." Colette shrugged.

Which way why Sylvanas couldn't shake the suspicion that it was all a distraction from his real goals.

XXXXX

"I just want to take care of my baby girl. Is that so bad?"

"Azeroth is not 'your baby girl'." The recently repaired Archaedas rebuked. "She is a titan."

"Those two things are not mutually exclusive." Harry argued. "I teach her things, protect her from threats and comfort her when she has nightmares. I've had to do less parenting for some of the children I've actually sired. She is absolutely my baby girl."

"Lad, don't ye think yer reaching just a bit too far here?" Magni Bronzebeard, King of Ironforge and excellent drinking buddy, asked drily.

"No." Harry denied. "You think that just because she's a planet-sized being with vast cosmic power that she doesn't need a father? You think that just because she's a million years older than me that she's not a child? She might be the biggest, oldest, most powerful child I've ever adopted, but I didn't get to where I am by balking at challenges."

"Well yer not a dwarf, so I suppose I can't expect ye to make sense." Magni harrumphed.

"You don't get anywhere in life by letting the world tell you what to do." Harry agreed and turned to Archaedas. "So you see, it's really in your best interests to give us access to the Discs of Norgannon."

"No, I do not see." The Keeper refuted. "The knowledge held in the Discs is meant only for the Pantheon, so that they may know what happened in their absence."

"That is a horrendous waste of resources." The wizard said flatly. "Not only will that knowledge still be there if you give us access to it, it may actually be crucial to preserving Azeroth so that the Pantheon even has a chance to see that knowledge in the first place."

"Aye." Magni agreed. "And don't take this as a threat, but ye've been defeated by adventurers once already. If ye let me secure Uldaman with me armies we can keep them out, but if ye send us away then it's only a matter of time before another group does it again."

"And you will also want the knowledge of the Discs for yourself." Archaedas presumed.

"Ye can decide which of it ye are willing to share." Magni assured. "Our archaeologists are more interested in our people's history than in the military secrets of our enemies."

The dwarven king pointedly said nothing about his own interests.

Archaedas was silent for a long while, clearly considering the situation. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Harry and Magni stayed quiet and waited for him to come to a decision, both patient enough to not rush him.

Finally, after a solid hour of thinking, Archaedas looked at them again and spoke. "Mage, Azeroth has chosen you to speak for her. Dwarf king, your people are descended from our earthen servants who have been corrupted by the Curse of Flesh. For these reasons I will allow you limited access to the knowledge held within the Discs of Norgannon, but not direct access to the Discs themselves. You may request certain information, and I will decide whether to give it to you or not. This is non-negotiable."

Harry and Magni exchanged looks. It wasn't ideal, but it was acceptable. They looked back at the Keeper and nodded. "Agreed."

XXXXX

OMAKE – Daddy Issue Overflow

In the undefined future in an alternate timeline.

It was the stomping that told Giles that his charges hadn't found any satisfying information.

The past week had been frustrating in new and unexpected ways, layered atop the persistent issues plaguing the group humorously calling itself 'The Scoobies'. As much as the veteran Watcher believed it was better to have the Slayer – or Slayers now that Faith was also here – supported by friends and allies, he had to admit that it was a lot more complicated. Bloody teenage drama.

Giles came out of his library office with some of his usually dry British wit. "By your attempts to smash holes into the floor, I presume that you found nothing?"

"Nada, zip, zilch!" Faith scowled. "Not a single vampire or demon. Willy doesn't know jack, either."

"Same here." Buffy said more quietly, but still glaring a hole into the floor.

Her mind was clearly still on Angel, who had been one of the first victims of this new state of affairs, the souled vampire bursting into ghostly blue fires in the moonlight.

"I was afraid you would say that." Giles took off his glasses and polished them.

"Uh oh, Giles is polishing his glasses." Xander noted immediately. "Things are always serious when the G-man does that."

"Yes, Xander, thank you for the color commentary." The Wawtcher sighed in exasperation. "Things are indeed serious."

"Why?" The group jokester asked seriously. "I get that we lost Deadboy and Oz is having nightly problems instead of monthly ones, but why is it so bad that vamps are getting roasted both by day and night now? I don't think I've seen a single 'death by barbeque fork to the neck' in the obituary this week."

"It is bad, because this all started with that odd fluctuation of the Hellmouth. It is bad, because the moon has been full every day for the past week. It is bad, because the effect extends only to the borders of Sunnydale as of yet, but it is growing. It is bad, Xander, because the spiritual component of celestial bodies does not simply change overnight." Giles explained patiently.

"Spiritual component?" Xander echoed in confusion.

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose to stave off the migraine he could feel coming. "Willow, could you please explain to your friend what he missed yesterday while pretending to do research and reading a comic book instead?"

"The sun burns vampires because it was an object of worship for humanity for thousands of years." Willow explained in her usual cheery voice. "The sun is holy, the bringer of day and banisher of evil. The moon was always seen as part of the dark, so doesn't hurt the things that go bump in it. Or it didn't used to, at any rate."

"Okay, but why is the change bad?" Xander persisted, making a valiant attempt at a raised eyebrow. He was still a few decades too early and too American to pull it off properly.

"Because there is no witch or warlock powerful enough to do this. Some demon lords can alter reality on a limited basis under the right circumstances, but not in this manner. Something forced its way through the Hellmouth and is able to keep the door open enough for whatever influence it has to leak through." Giles said slowly, hoping the boy would get the hint. "While some of the side effects are beneficial, you should keep in mind that whatever being is behind this likely does not care for humans any more than it does for vampires."

"I found them!" Came the triumphant declaration of Cordelia Chase as she victoriously threw open the library doors, ruining the gravity of the moment.

"Where? Who are they?" Buffy was the quickest to recover, rapidly throwing out questions.

Giles had a bad feeling about the intensity of her questions, knowing that his charge was a temperamental sort at the best of times. Her unfortunate sentiments with regards to Angel would once again cause trouble, he just knew it.

"They rented out the presidential suite in the Sunnydale Hotel, along with the rest of the floor." Cordelia revealed. "Whoever they are, they've got more money than God."

Giles winced at her choice of words. He hadn't shared it with the children, but a god from some other dimension was one of his grimmer theories.

"That explains why we missed them." Xander mused. "We've been looking at crypts and spooky places, but they've been living large the whole time."

That was an astute observation. Xander did have those from time to time.

"How certain are you that these are the people we are looking for, Cordelia?" Giles asked.

"I heard it straight from Harmony." Cordelia asserted.

"Always a reliable source of information." Xander retorted sarcastically to his girlfriend.

"Okay, fair, but even she couldn't make up a story about, and I quote, 'five super-hot elves with like, pointy ears and glowing eyes'. Plus, she was being a bitch about it, so you know it's gotta be true."

They were all silent for a moment as they digested this information.

"We need to check it out." Buffy finally decided.

"Please try to at least talk to them first." Giles requested. "As unsettling as this all is, they may not be enemies. And Buffy, they very likely did not intend to kill Angel."

His charge had a mulish expression on her face and simply stomped out in the same way that she and Faith had stomped in.

Giles rubbed at his head, fearing what would come of this. "Faith, could I prevail upon you to try keeping Buffy in check?"

"Relax, G-man. No matter what it is, me and B have it handled." The Boston-born Slayer replied flippantly, only increasing his worry.

"Yeah, what's the worst that can happen?" Xander said mockingly, clearly knowing that he was taunting the universe. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

Giles felt the need for a strong cup of tea... with some scotch added to it.

XXXXX

Faith felt the anticipation building up in her gut as they approached the Sunnydale Hotel. She was spoiling for a hard fight.

At first, Sunnydale seemed like a good place to be and settle in, but it quickly became obvious that it wasn't. Giles wasn't a bad guy, but he was focused on B, Red didn't like her and the others weren't exactly welcoming either. Xander was actually the most willing to accept her, which was probably why Red didn't like her.

And now with this new thing and B on the warpath because her undead boytoy got torched… yeah, a fight was exactly what the doctor ordered.

They'd come mob-handed and armed to the teeth. Aside from Oz, who was currently wolfing out, and Giles, who had stayed behind the watch over him, they were all present.

It was supposed to be a stakeout, but their targets left the hotel barely a minute after they set themselves up and hoo-boy had the description of 'super-hot elves' been accurate.

There were five of them, four women and one man. The man and two of the women looked normal enough… for seven foot giants with slightly pointed ears. The other two, however, had skins in shades of purple, crazy hair, crazy ears and crazy eyebrows. And they were also seven feet tall. The lot of them had glowing eyes as well.

They were dressed normally enough, but that just emphasized how out of place they were. Only Sunnydale's ability to ignore the blatantly supernatural had probably kept the secret of magic from being blown wide open by their presence.

"Let's follow them." B said quietly and started stalking after the group.

Faith thought about pointing out that this seemed kinda suspicious, but decided not to. B wasn't in a listening mood and she still wanted that fight.

Not too surprisingly, the group of elves or whatever they were led them into one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries, all but confirming Faith's suspicion that they knew they were being followed.

Then the group stopped and turned around, staring directly at them. The only man among them smiled and spread his hands in welcome. "Hello there. My name is Harry. How can we help your group of intrepid young demon slayers?"

His voice was deep, polite and utterly unafraid. Faith was starting to get a bit uneasy about their chances, despite the fact they didn't seem to have any weapons on them.

"You can tell us what you are and what you're doing in Sunnydale." B demanded firmly, spinning her stake.

Faith thought it was a little dumb of her to not take something bigger.

"Tourists and tourism." Harry, if that was really his name, replied. "Arko, Jessir and Colette here…" He gestured to the two purple-skinned and the one black-haired woman. "wanted to see what Earth looked like and this town with its dimensional conflux was the closest unaltered version of Earth we could find that could still support our existence."

"Tourism." B said flatly, but everyone could hear the rage simmering under it. "And what about the moon?"

"Oh, that was me!" The last of the women spoke up, a very chesty blonde with silvery eyes. "I'm Luna, I was a moon goddess for a while and this place is letting some of my portfolio leak through. Don't worry about it, it's harmless."

Oh boy, that was not the right thing to say to B right now.

"Harmless?!" Buffy screamed furiously, getting ready to jump into battle. "You killed Angel!"

"Judging by context, this 'Angel' character was an ironically named demon that burned under Luna's moonlight… and judging by your very personal rage, you were fucking him." Harry sighed, taking the wind out of B's sails. "Let me guess, your father abandoned you at some point?"

Faith had to choke down a snicker at his very accurate guess, but B was less appreciative and charged in with another angry scream.

Harry didn't seem bothered, casually blocking or deflecting the enraged Slayer's blows.

"Need some help?" One of the purple chicks asked bemusedly.

"Nah, I've got this." Harry sighed again. "We might end up staying longer than planned though. This entire group reeks of daddy issues and leaving an unstable dimensional conflux to be guarded by them feels kind of like leaving a live grenade in a room full of toddlers."

"Hey, we're not that bad." Xan Man complained, but his crossbow was pointed at the big elf guy's heart.

Not that it was necessary, as Harry simply spun Buffy around and booted her back towards the group without harming her.

"Oh really?" Harry asked sarcastically, pointing at Cordelia. "You there, spoiled rich girl with neglectful parents. Introduce everyone to me."

Faith's snickers turned into all out laughter at yet another deadly accurate guess by the big man. This was turning out to be fucking hilarious.

Cordy gasped in outrage. "I am not spoiled!"

"So your parents didn't try to substitute affection with money?" Harry's voice was pure sarcasm. "Because those boots look awfully expensive."

"Well they are Prada." Cordelia bragged.

"I rest my case. Now the introductions, if you please."

Faith reflexively stood at attention. Holy fuck, what is that voice?!

Cordelia apparently heard the authority in it, too, and immediately obeyed. "W-well, you've already become acquainted with Buffy Summers. She's the Slayer."

"I already have her figured out, yes. I'm more interested in the redhead and the boy, they're the only ones without blatantly obvious issues."

"Don't tell him anything!" Buffy snapped.

"We aren't your enemies." Luna said with such sincerity that even Faith was forced to believe it. "Harry is trying to help you."

"You can help by going to Hell!" Buffy shouted angrily and attacked again.

This time, there wasn't even a pretense of a fight. Harry caught her by the wrist and quickly had her wrapped up in a submission hold. The Slayer essence might enhance her strength, but it did nothing for her mass. Harry had to be at least three times her weight and his huge arms were ideal for grappling. And he seemed to know what he was doing, too.

"I'll take those introductions now." He said, holding one big hand over Buffy's mouth to keep her quiet.

Xan Man stepped up, giving a sarcastic bow. "Xander Harris, at your service."

"Alexander, is it?" Harry hummed. "You're too fearless for a kid your age, too quick to take risks… Low self-worth. Your father is at least verbally, and possibly physically, abusive. Your mother is either the same or powerless to stop it. High chance of alcohol abuse, too."

"Damn, you are good at this." Faith complimented as Xander took a surprised step back.

Harry cracked a grin, still holding a struggling Slayer still without much difficulty. "I've had a lot of practice."

"Are you going to do me next?" She asked, morbidly curious. "Faith Lehane, by the way. Also a Slayer"

"Sure." Harry gave her a piercing look that would have had her all hot and bothered if it didn't completely lack heat. "Hmm. Dark lipstick, leather pants, paper-thin tough girl attitude. Drunk or druggie mother and an abusive stepfather? And judging by how you're keeping some distance from the rest of the group, serious trust issues on top of it."

Faith's grin faltered. "Ouch. Whose attitude are you calling fake?"

"Yours, girly. You're not a virgin either, but I think you wish you were."

Faith wasn't having fun with this anymore. "You don't know shit."

He knew all the shit.

Harry hummed and looked at Red. "And lastly, the little witch of the group. What's your name, fellow magic user?"

Red perked up at the implication. "You're a mage?! I'm Willow, Willow Rosenberg."

Buffy tried to scream again, but nothing made it past his hand.

"Hmm, you're quite the peculiar mess. What have your parents done to you?"

"Nothing!" Red denied quickly. Too quickly.

"Really now? Then why don't you tell me what they do for a living?" Harry's voice was soft and persuasive and Faith felt an odd urge to trust him.

"Umm, they're psychologists…" Red said uncertainly.

"Ah, so you're a Jewish social engineering project. That explains a lot." Harry nodded sagely.

Surprised laughter burst out of Faith's throat. What he'd said had been so out of left field that she just couldn't stop. Worst part was, it might actually be true.

"That's not true!" Red shouted in outrage, which just made Faith laugh harder.

"Yeah, and next you'll tell me that you can remember when was the last time they hugged you." Harry snorted, making Red recoil as if he'd slapped her. "Right, every last one of you is screwed up. You must have some kind of father figure somewhere, otherwise you wouldn't be able to work together at all, but he probably doesn't know what to do with all of your myriad issues. Henceforth, you may all consider me your father."

Upon saying that, he shoved Buffy away and sent her stumbling back to the group.

"Will I have to call you Daddy?" Faith managed to wheeze sarcastically, still not done laughing about the 'Jewish social engineering project' thing.

"You may do so, but be aware that I will treat you like my little princess if you do."

Somehow, that threat was more terrifying than the sexual implications she had been going for.

"Uh, guys?" Xander spoke up uncertainly. "Maybe we should retreat and fight another day?"

Buffy hesitated, obviously thinking of launching another attack, but apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valor this time. Faith got her cackles under control and walked back as well. She might not have gotten the fight she was spoiling for, but this had been a hoot either way.

"I'll come pick you all up after I get our living situation set up." He casually promised/threatened.

"Bye everyone!" Luna waved chirpily. "If you don't have moms you like I'll be glad to step in!"

XXXXX

"This is definitely not what I was expecting when I said I wanted to see what your world is like." Jessir sighed.

"Don't worry, it won't take more than ten years at the most to get those brats fixed up." Harry said confidently. "And by then more of this world will be open to us."