Elder Scroll series, Harry Potter 1. To the Chopping Block

**Disclaimer:** Neither Harry Potter nor TES 5: Skyrim belongs to me! All rights are owned by their owners, Rowling and Bethesda, and I am just grateful to be able to mess around with their wonderful tales.

**Author's Note:** I'll try to keep this short but basically, this is a cross-over between the Harry Potter series and the awesome computer game known as Skyrim! I decided to give it a shot since there's not nearly enough HP/Skyrim crossovers and couldn't resist this plot-bunny once it struck in my head. And so that I don't give a huge info-dump about Harry's life (since we all know who he is, or should know), I decided to give him memory loss but it's for a reason and all will be revealed eventually.

As of right now, I am unsure about the pairings or if this will be a Harem fic. The two primary candidates for Harry's love interest though are Aela the Huntress and, of course, Lydia the Housecarl (no slash). Also, Harry can get married since he's eighteen in this fic. It's set a year after the war with Voldermort and way after the books. Last but not least, forget the Epilogue since that didn't happen right away. And now without any further ado, allow me to present you with my latest endeavour!

**CHAPTER 1: **To the Chopping Block

Harry James Potter awoke to the sound of clattering iron against rock. His head ached and his whole body felt like it was on fire with pain. He was jostling from side to side in some sort of transportation device that could have been a car but felt much cruder and more archaic like a wagon; except that was odd since he never rode on a wagon before. Or did he? Funnily enough, he couldn't quite remember. In fact, he didn't quite remember anything.

A thrill of fear shot through him causing his eyes to snap open as he realized he could not recall a single thing about his past or who he was save his name, gender, age, and the fact that he had not been here a few moments ago but had come from somewhere else. Alarm woke him up fast as he shot up into a sitting position only to grimace as pain lanced down his back again.

Groggy, dazed, and disoriented, he uttered a feeble groan as his eyelids fluttered back and forth while he drifted between consciousness and collapsing from exhaustion. Eventually, he steadied and regained control of his senses.

Through his blurry vantage point he could see the vague shapes of what looked like people hunched together on some sort of a wagon led by a horse that was jostling down the road. And after what seemed like an agonizingly long time, his vision cleared and his eyes confirmed that he was surrounded by people.

But they were quite unlike _any_ people he had ever seen before, at least something in the back of his mind told him so. Taking deep, ragged breaths he glanced around warily taking in every single shape and form he could lay eyes on. Directly in front of him, there was a man who looked well in his twenties with a shoulder-length blond hair.

Strong and rugged-looking, he wore a suit of strange brownish armour, or what Harry thought was armour, that could only be compared to that of a Roman soldier's. Likewise, the wagon driver also wore a similar suit of armour except for the fact that he wore an open-faced helmet with cheek guards also of the same reddish-brown material.

The blond man, white-skinned man was sitting opposite Harry on the right side of the wagon and his hands were tied together with thick sturdy rope. His head was tilted and he looked oddly comfortable as if he didn't mind being tied up on a bumpy wagon in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by nothing but trees, the dusty road ahead and the open sky above. Truth be told, there were a few more jostling wagons driven by horses and other soldiers carrying more prisoners.

Suddenly, a flock of birds burst into the air as the groans and creeks of cartwheels disturbed their foraging, or whatever it was that birds did. Harry shifted in his seat feeling uncomfortable. Licking his parched lips, he turned his gaze to the next person in the wagon: Another man, thinner and weaker looking with closely-cropped brown hair and a strange red tattoo on his forehead. His head was bowed as if in shame and he wore tattered rags. His hands too were tied.

Feeling more curious than ever before, he shuffled in his wooden seat to glance at the person sitting in the back of the wagon. Once again the stranger was male with flowing shoulder-length brownish hair and a beard. He wore some sort of fur robes over his outfit which and was sitting with his back to the others as much as possible. For the briefest of minutes, Harry caught a glimpse at his rugged face and saw a fierce glint in his eyes. But then a voice called his attention back to the blond-haired man who was looking, and speaking, at him.

"Hey, you," The man said in a strong voice, but one that was thankfully English.

"Eh?" Harry managed to croak out hoarsely.

He'd give anything for a drink of water, even his wand. Wait. He had a wand? What was a wand as a matter of fact? But the blond didn't give him time to finish his riddle.

"You're finally awake," He was saying.

Harry shrugged awkwardly unsure as to how to respond. He didn't know any of these people or where he was or who he was. What the heck was going on here?

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The man continued, not unkindly. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"I dunno what I was doing," Harry grumbled. "Can't remember a damn thing."

Not like anyone seemed to care, the thief least of all.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" The thief groused, shooting a glare at the blond man. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

So they were in a place called Skyrim, were they? And ruled by a medieval-sounding government called the Empire. Sounded rather unlike the place he had come from, if he could remember it that is.

"If they hadn't been looking for you," The thief whined. "I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

Harry could not resist a chuckle.

The names people came up with around here were real funny. Well, Skyrim was okay but Hammerfell? Seriously? Obviously a hammer falls whenever it's used in carpentry, or when a carpenter gets frustrated by a bent nail. Still, the thief had a point even if he was a criminal. The folks he was lumped with seemed like a troublesome lot.

"You there," The thief hissed, looking Harry in the eyes. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"Nice that I have a fan," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "But flattery won't get you anywhere. I hate my fame."

As suddenly as he said that, he frowned in confusion. Where had that come from? Had he been famous once upon a time? Obviously he didn't like it but why had he said that? What did this all mean?

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," The blond man retorted, unfazed by the thief's jibes.

Harry sighed. Perhaps he was wrong about his initial assumptions. Why was everything so difficult all the time?

"Shut up back there!" The soldier driving the wagon barked.

Harry grimaced as he struggled to retain a flash of rage. He remembered having difficulty trusting people in authority. They usually betrayed him, attacked him, or died.

Thankfully though, the thief distracted Harry's attention providing a welcome relief from the bottled rage as he glanced towards the direction the thief was looking at. It was that brown-haired, fur-robed man sitting in the back of the wagon. He had an air of authority himself and that of a warrior, someone who didn't like people messing around with him.

"Watch your tongue!" The blond man snapped rudely. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

Harry groaned. They still had _kings_ over here? What the hell was going on? Had he gone back in time or was he in another world? His mind reeling, he could only watch haplessly as his fellow prisoners bickered.

At least not everyone was confused and the thief answered Harry's unspoken question, sort of.

"The Jarl of Windhelm?" The man asked with the hint of awe, or maybe not. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you, then...oh gods! Where are they taking us?"

The note of panic in the thief's voice made something stir within Harry. He could feel it in his bones. An adventure was about to happen soon, something dangerous and terrible but glorious to behold, something he had never experienced before and something that might never happen again, if he didn't survive.

"I don't know where we're going," The blond muttered sullenly but resigned. "But Sovrenguard awaits."

_Sovrenguard?_ Harry wondered. _Where on earth was that? _

Some kind of death obviously, judging by the defeated look in the blond man's eyes.

"No!" The thief rambled. "This can't be happening!"

Harry felt a spark of fear kindle in his own heart. It was evident that they were about to die and somehow, he felt he had been through something like this before. But it was in different circumstances and he was completely unprepared for this bleak turn. If it was in his own world that might be a different story, but out here...

"Hey," The blond man interjected. "What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" The thief sulked provoking an eye-role from Harry.

He was too tired and confused to interfere.

"A Nord's last thought should be of home," The man explained.

Harry grunted. That was a good notion if a bit bleak. Who knows? They were still alive and while they were, there was a chance that they could escape and pay back whoever was doing this to him. One thing was for certain: He was innocent and he wanted to stay alive, thank you very much. He also wanted to find out who he was and where he came from and, if possible, get back home.

All this talk about horse thieves, ambushes, and rebellions didn't sound too good to him.

"Rorikstead," The thief ground out. "I'm from Rorikstead."

Before Harry could ask where that was from, since it was a possible location to make to in case they escaped, an announcement dashed his hopes to pieces causing him to squirm around and see where they were heading.

"General Tulius, sir!" A man cried in a posh accent. "The headman is waiting."

Headman.

An olden-day term for an axe-man or, in other words, an executioner. This couldn't be good. Was this it? Was it all over? Before whatever _this_ was even began?

Taking a deep calming breath of the cool fresh mountain air, Harry stared out into the distance as the horse carts ahead jostled back and forth along the road making their way under some kind of bridge.

Well, it looked like a bridge but also a gate. The gate was open without any doors and made completely of wood. It had a bridge walkway on top covered by a long thatched slanted roof. Guards dressed in the same Romanesque armour patrolled the walkway holding torches in their hands and armed with swords at their belts. Fires in pots stood by the gate that was patrolled by more guards.

The whole place had a very medieval feel to it but still retained a majesty and splendour that the modern era – what was that again? – could not afford. Through the wide open gate, Harry spotted square wooden houses with thatched slanted ceilings. Smoke climbed into the frigid air from squat stone chimneys and people dressed in tattered clothes of brown, cream, and green lined the street. Farm animals brayed obliviously to each other and more guards in the centre of the village, near a wooden block where the headman stood, chatted lazily with each other.

"Good," Said a gruff voice, snapping Harry out of his reverie. "Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynereth, Akotash, Divines," The thief rambled frantically. "Please help me."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. The things people resorted to when they felt like it was all over.

"Look at him," The blond man snorted in distain. "General Tulius of the Imperial Division."

Harry turned lazily, not really feeling the rage or sense of urgency and desperation the others felt, for some bizarre reason.

But what the man said was true. Another warrior wearing similar armour to the others but more regal-looking, and no helmet upon his head of buzzed hair, was sitting astride a lofty brown horse and conversing with some strange human-like people. Except, they _weren't_ people. They looked more stately and graceful and beautiful but mean, cold, and terrible to behold. They also had long, slender, pointed ears and wore different outfits, black robes with some sort of design, as opposed to the others.

Okay, he was definitely in another world! Had he come to Middle-Earth or something? That couldn't be too bad.

"And it looks like the Thalmer are with him," The man spat. Okay, maybe not. "Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

"That sure is jumping to conclusions," Harry muttered under his breath.

But he held his peace. Things were already tense enough in the wagon of death.

As said cart creaked and groaned while ploughing through a bend in the road, Harry's eyes widened as he saw the proud ruins of an old stone fort. It rose high above the cottages and wooden walls of the town but was in an obvious state of disrepair. Stone blocks lay here and there and smoke rose from various torches and fires around the fort.

"This is Helgen," The talkative blond sighed, diverting Harry's attention again. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries."

The ghost of a smile touched Harry's lips as the captured soldier reminisced on his childhood sweetheart but then faded as he felt a pang of remorse and loneliness in his own heart. Something told him he wasn't too good with girls, if he could only remember who they were.

"Funny," The man continued dryly. "When I was a boy, the Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."

Harry chuckled dryly at the irony of that statement. The man seemed like a decent sort or he could have been and was only having a change of heart on the verge of death. So far as he could tell, this land was caught in the middle of a war and the man was now on the wrong side of it, the side with a chopping block. And no matter how terrible a criminal you might be, it was always possible to vie for redemption a foot away from the cold embrace of the Grim Reaper.

"Who are they, daddy?" A curious kid, who Harry couldn't see from his position, asked his father. "Where are they going?"

Harry wondered then if they were thought of as heroes or villains.

"You need to go inside, little cub," The boy's father said hastily, obviously uncomfortable with his child staring at doomed prisoners.

A weary-looking woman leaning on the rail of their home's porch di

"Why?" The boy, who was squatting cross-legged on the porch before the few steps leading up to it, protested. "I want to see the soldiers."

Harry sighed. Wartime propaganda always made soldiers and warriors out to be heroes. If anything, they were the true victims of the war since any kind of battle, whether with guns, wands, or swords, always left a soldier with his own personal demons, demons no one could heal. And there it was again, more riddles from his past he was unable to decipher.

"Inside the house!" The father insisted as the cart turned blocking the family and houses from view. "Now."

At least not everyone appreciated an execution.

"Yes, papa," The boy grumbled reluctantly.

But once again, Harry had other things to worry about for the cart seemed to reach its end at what looked like the entranceway to the courtyard of the ruined fort. The front wall was still intact, if not rather dilapidated, and the sturdy round tower adjacent to it looked like in good condition. Yet even more worrisome was the number of soldiers, and a few elves if he saw correctly, gathered around the chopping block.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts!" Barked a female voice. "Move it!"

Harry felt impressed.

From what little he recalled he knew next to nothing about modern, Muggle military but he knew full well that it took decades for women to become a part of the army. Even in his world's modern era, there were very few women soldier's despite what action movies made you believe. And yet here was a female soldier obviously used to a position in command and this strange new world was very _not_ modern. In fact, it was like stepping back in time which was more than strange. Perhaps this new realm was more advanced than a first glance suggested?

"Why are we stopping?" The thief squeaked making Harry want to face-palm.

The talkative blond didn't seem to mind though, but the answer came out in a more deadpanned voice than he previously uttered.

"Why do you think?" The man quipped rhetorically. "End of the line."

As if to prove his point, the soldier in the saddle pulled the reigns and the horse stopped with a snort in front of a wall. Probably grateful to be off the saddle and stretch his legs after a long ride with depressed, angry prisoners, the guard hopped off the horse nimbly.

"Let's go," The blond man said with a wry smile. "Let's not keep the gods waiting."

So this dude was suicidal as well as a rebel?

"No! Wait we're not rebels!" The thief protests as they all climbed wearily off the cart and were herded to the chopping block.

Harry rolled his eyes and struggled to walk on numb legs. Like the guards would even care what a _thief_ said.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," The blond growled.

"You've got to tell them!" The thief rambled on obliviously, panic rising in his voice. "We weren't with you. This is a mistake."

Harry winced as his feet aching feet touched solid ground. The cold stones beneath his feet made him feel all the more awkward and uneasy.

"Step forward when we call you," The female soldier ordered. "One at a time."

Harry sighed but did as was told. There were too many soldiers around to put up a fight and he didn't even have his wand. Not to mention that he was in a new land and did not remember a single _thing_ about his past. How could he even hope to break free with all that bogging him down?

"Empire loves their damn lists," The blond snorted as he joined Harry and the other too, earning a dry smirk from him.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," A muscular soldier reading from a scroll called out eagerly. "Jarl of Windhelm."

"It has been an honour," The talkative blond said respectfully, his back partially turned to them, as Ulfric Stormcloak strode confidently forward.

Finally, the blond soldier's name was introduced.

"Rolaf of Riverwood," The scroll-reading guard announced.

Hands tied but head held high, the captured rebel joined his leader with the same steady stride.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," The guard announced sounding bored now that the two wanted rebels were on their way to death.

Harry squirmed as he suppressed a sudden feeling in the pit of his stomach that something bad was about to happen. As if on cue, the thief began rambling again frantically as if he had lost all his senses.

"No! I'm not a rebel," The thief tried one last time. "You can't do this!"

_Idiot!_ Harry screamed inwardly. _Just buckle up and accept your fate._

But it was no good.

The thief, driven mad by fear, darted away from the guards even though his hands were tied and the fort was practically crawling with Imperial soldiers.

"Halt!" The female officer barked, but the thief didn't listen.

He was too far gone in madness.

"You're going to kill me!" The thief shrieked sounding like a deranged madman.

"Archers!" The woman commanded.

Harry watched helplessly, fighting off that sinking feeling of dread, as arrows were notched in bows and an almost eerie, gloomy soundtrack seemed to play in his head. In a matter of seconds, bows snapped into action and arrows sang into the air plunging into the thief's back before he had made it even a few meters away. Harry struggled to subdue the bile that threatened to dislodge itself from his stomach and he struggled to stand upright as he felt suddenly dizzy and hot.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The female officer growled.

Harry shook his head although the officer already seemed to know the answer.

"Wait, you, you there," The guard with the scroll said. "Step forward."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to trudge forward through the frigid wind. He choked in surprise as a tendril of smoke assaulted his nostrils.

"Who are you?" The man asked in obvious confusion.

The others seemed at an equal loss for the female officer did not try to correct the man. Harry hesitated. He knew he was not from here but if he said that would they believe him? Or would they think he was just trying to make up pitiful excuses to avoid his fate? On the other hand, if they _did_ believe him what would they do with an alien from another world? Would they do strange experiments on him or throw him in the dungeons until they could decide his destiny? What should he say? His name was rather unlike the others' around here.

"Hurry up!" The man barked.

"Harry James Potter," The teenager said at last. "I'm eighteen years old and a wizard from another world. Not that you're likely to believe my story but it's the truth, I swear it."

The man paused and scratched his head. He turned around questioningly to his superior officer.

"Captain, what should we do?" The soldier asked. "He's not on the list."

The woman shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not believing Harry's story for a second.

"I've heard more far-fetched excuses in my time," The female officer grunted. "You could be a mage but if so, you're probably a rogue mage cast out of the guild or you're a necromancer. Either way, I don't care. Can't be seen to show favourites when people distrust mages as much as they do here in Skyrim, now can I?"

"The chopping block then?" The guard guessed.

The officer shrugged and nodded. "Forget the list, he goes with the others."

"By your orders, Captain," The man said, sounding glad the legalities were over with.

"I'm sorry," The man said genuinely, surprising Harry. "I'll make sure your remains go to the guild. They will give you the proper burials as your kind does. Now follow the Captain, prisoner."

Without another word, the Captain sauntered off to join the man called General Tulius who stood with the other guards before the chopping block in front of the fur-robed man, who Harry now saw had a gag tied around his mouth. That was odd.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," The general said. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Harry arched an eyebrow. That definitely altered his perception of the previously calm and subdued prisoner. The gagged man didn't look like the evil type but traitors usually hid their true colours. Then again, were the authorities in charge of this execution any better?

They were killing Harry and he knew he was innocent of whatever crime they thought he had committed. What was it? Crossing the border or something? He had heard the guards mutter that suspiciously to themselves as the cart pulled into the town square.

The gagged rebel grunted something but it was muffled against the gag.

"You started this war," The general continued. "Plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and return Skyrim to peace."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. He couldn't quite make up his mind. War always had two sides to a story and it was always the victor's side that was the "right" one. Something told him he had just come from a war but that was a different case where the traitors were truly evil. The "good" side wasn't much better but at least they weren't like the opposing side. This was different though and Harry didn't know what to think.

All of a sudden, the general's speech was interrupted by an all too familiar shriek-like roar that echoed in the sky. Everyone looked up to the sky and even the general and his nonchalant female officer seemed caught off-guard. Harry joined their gaze but white clouds blocked his view. Even so, sweat beaded his forehead and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up like hackles as his sixth sense alerted him to danger. He didn't know what it was but something told him he had faced the creator of the sound before, twice.

"What was that?" Someone asked with the hint of fear.

"It's nothing," The general barked. "Carry on."

Nonetheless, Harry's heart pounded faster and faster and goose-bumps prickled his arms and neck. He felt dizzy as a strong sense of déjà vu washed over him. He knew that scream was just the vanguard of what was about to come and a thrill of excitement, coupled with fear, shot through his being.

"Yes, General Tulius!" The captain agreed loudly, then turning to a lady dressed in an orange-gold robe with a hood pulled over face, she said. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess raised her arms in the air and began rambling on about some nine Divines and whatnot.

"For the love of Talos!" Another random captured Stormcloak soldier barked in frustration. "Just get on with it."

Harry smirked at the aggravated look that flashed across the priestess's face. He wasn't one to mock religion but he hated stuffy and arrogant people who thought they were better than others. He marvelled as said soldier stomped forward and stood before the chopping block.

"As you wish," The priestess grumbled.

"Come on!" The Stormcloak groused. "I haven't got all morning."

Instantly, Harry's smirk grew to a grin and he knew he liked the man. He would have made a loyal fun friend in another life. A shame he was about to die. Pouting like a child, the priestess sauntered off into the fort courtyard and the female officer stood next to the Stormcloak. Not bothering with any formalities, she pushed him down to his knees and the man went down willingly, resting his chin on the block. As if to infuriate them all the more, the Stormcloak wasn't finished.

"My ancestors are smiling on me, Imperial," The man quipped proudly. "Can you say the same?"

Harry felt a pang of remorse as the captain walked away leaving the soldier to his fate. That man did not seem to deserve death. This was just _wrong_.

Silently but surely, the headsman raised his large curved axe and Harry glared at the black cowl he wore over his face that only revealed his cold eyes through two holes in the hood. With practiced efficiency, the man raised the axe into the air and Harry watched numbly as he brought it down with a dull thud. The axe made a squelching sound as it sliced through flesh and bones and Harry winced as the brave rebel's now-severed head rolled onto the floor. The captain placed her foot on the corpse's back and shoved the lifeless body away making Harry's blood boil.

"You Imperial bastards!" A female cried from the crowd of villagers who stood a far, while some screamed curses at the dead body.

Cowards.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," The talkative blond murmured respectfully.

And for once, Harry didn't mind his rambles. In fact, he wholeheartedly agreed. But the merciless female Captain didn't give Harry time to mourn for long.

"Next!" She cried. "The self-professed mage."

Harry shook his head.

He was about to die. Why couldn't these people just give him the respect he deserved? He didn't remember much about his past but he knew he was a wizard. Not that it mattered anyway. Perhaps he would return to the world of his past upon death. In any case, whatever life next awaited him it would be a better world than this bleak existence.

Heaving a last resigned sigh, Harry started forward only to free, startled, as that familiar eerie shriek sounded in the sky once more.

"Wait!" Someone breathed. "There it is again! Did you hear that?"

The captain didn't seem impressed. She just wanted to get on with the show.

"I said, next prisoner," The officer growled.

"Move along prisoner," The same soldier said cautiously. "Nice and easy."

Harry rolled his eyes and trudged forward struggling against the bile that rose in his throat as the stench of blood and death and smoke assaulted his nostrils. All eyes were fixed on him as he sauntered towards the block and knelt before the blood-stained wood. The lifeless eyes of the deceased Stormcloak's severed head stared back at him accusingly.

Closing his eyes and fighting to remain calm, he leaned his chin on the rough surface and waited for death. But as was wont to happen around Harry James Potter, it didn't seem like he could catch a break. For once again, that roar sounded although it was closer this time and Harry cracked an eye open to stare in awe and wonder at the creature that launched into the air towards them: It was a dragon!

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**A/N:** So...how did I do? Okay? Good? Bad? Terrible? Don't be afraid to say and I'm sorry that Harry didn't have much dialogue but he's pretty tired from the accident that brought him here. As for his memory loss, he'll get some things back eventually but not right away since that's the main plot of the story... If he'll survive! And don't forget to review, otherwise the dragon might decide to have a tasty snack after laying waste to Fort Helgen and Harry won't get his memory back! *evil smirk* Well, that's all for now and see you guys next chapter!


	2. Break Out

**Disclaimer: ** Neither Harry Potter nor TES 5: Skyrim belongs to me! All rights are owned by their owners, Rowling and Bethesda, and I am just grateful to be able to mess around with their wonderful tales.

**Author's Note:** I'm baaaack! First of all, thanks for the reviews since they really help me want to write more of this story although I do enjoy this unique crossover and attempting to bring a game to life. I only have a few things to say so I'll be quick about it.

One: Harry's memory is odd. Because of the magical accident that sent him to Skyrim which you'll find out about in due time, most of his memory was sapped out of him. He does recall a few odd things every now and then but they just pop into his head when he's not trying to remember things. Gives him a horrible headache though! He will recall everything in time but you'll have to wait for that.

Two: About the question of magic, Harry is a mage/wizard but in the accident he didn't have time to grab his wand since he was suddenly and unexpectedly pulled to Skyrim. However, he still does have his wizard's magical core without which he would not be able to do magic. Since there are mages in Skyrim who do magic _without _wands or staffs (these are just enchanted like magical weapons/armour) logic dictates he could still carry out Skyrim-based spells. Also, Harry uses one spell at the end of this chapter but he discovers it differently since in Oblivion you start out with a destruction-based spell and a restoration-based spell. He'll learn the others though normally.

Three: I decided to end this quest completely differently since Harry would not feel comfortable with running away with the Stormcloaks since he has a "saving people thing." He'd want to help fight and prove that he's innocent so that's why he does what he does at the end of this chapter. Even though he doesn't remember everything, he still has his character, integrity, and policies intact.

Last but not least, I'd like to thank user, x1griff1x, for brainstorming with me and sharing ideas. He was a great help! And now without any further ado allow me to present an unfortunately shorter update to my new crossover attempt.

Enjoy!

**CHAPTER 2:** Break Out

No sooner had Harry Potter laid his head to rest and waited for death when something all Nords thought was legend burst to life with a roar of rage so loud and furious it caused the earth to tremble and the whole fort, not to mention the village of Helgen, to shake as if in fear.

One thing was for certain, Harry was afraid, or at least shocked by the rude awakening, and jerked back up just in time to see the dragon kick off the snow-capped mountain in the background and soared into the air.

"What in Oblivion is _that_?" The captain cried out in disbelief tinged with a hint of fear.

Harry's heart did a summersault as he realized it was a dragon, just like the one he faced in the tournament and escaping from the Ministry. Only this one was different: It was wild and fierce and looked like vicious.

"Sentries, what do you see?" The captain asked stupidly.

The dragon was swooping _over_ them for Merlin's sakes! What else could the damn thing be? Why didn't the archers put their arrows to good use and attack the blasted dragon not a cowardly thief?

"It's in the clouds!" A sentry protested, making Harry cringe.

As if completely oblivious to the cries and flapping of wings and the miniature earthquake, the headsman raised his axe to deliver the death blow but Harry only sneered at him for he was not alone. Seconds later, the dragon landed with a boom on the round tower of the fort that was closest to them right behind the headsman.

The result of the dragon's strength landing on the tower sent a shockwave through everyone standing knocking the headsman over onto the floor.

"Dragon!" The captain shrieked, unsheathing her short sword with a hiss of metal scraping against leather.

_About time you realized it,_ Harry wanted to scream.

Not caring that he was not within reach of it, the headsman clambered to his feet and raised up his axe in the direction of the dragon. But the gigantic fearsome beast had other ideas and opened his maw letting out a roar. A blast of hot air knocked the headsman back again but an Imperial soldier surged forward regardless, sword drawn.

"Don't just stand there!" General Tulius roared. "Do something! Get the townspeople to safety."

At least he was decent enough, Harry thought trying to distract himself from the growing panic in his chest.

But it did little good for his vision blurred as he, himself, was knocked over by another fierce roar of the dragon. His mind reeled and he cried out in pain as he crashed clumsily to the ground with his hands tied.

Black spots danced before his eyes as his vision blurred and his senses were assaulted by shrieks of rage and fear, the smell of smoke and ash, the twang of bows and the dull thud of arrows as they bounced harmlessly off battlements while the dragon swooped away, and the cries of warriors as they rallied each other to defeat the beast. The ground below him felt rough and hard. The dust made him want to itch his skin till he bled. Luckily, he was saved from stooping so low by the talkative blond who burst into his line of sight.

"Hey, mage!" The blond bloke exclaimed against the tumult of confusion. "Get up, the gods won't give us another chance!"

Harry didn't think the gods were with them that day, if they even existed at all, but then again he had avoided sure death by an even worse evil and a beast he had fought and overcome before. Heck, he had even _flown through the air_ on a freaking blind dragon for crying out loud! Wait...had he?

Harry suddenly groaned as he felt a massive headache pounding through his skull with this latest development in his haywire memory. Heaving a sigh, he took a deep breath and glance around hastily for somewhere to cut his bonds. None too soon, his eyes fell on the fallen executioner's blade and Harry smirked.

It would be ironic justice that he'd escape thanks to the death of his would-be-executioner, not to mention using his tool of death to free himself and save his life. Feeling a little bit better, he carefully place his hands on either side of the wicked-looking blade and sawed away at it. Cutting the rope was harder than he had expected but he finally did it and felt a burst of excitement as his wrists separated.

"Good thinking, mage," The blond nodded approvingly. "But let's get moving. Death is still a plausible ending to this tale."

Harry nodded, too anxious for words, and darted after the Stormcloak. Not even bothering to hide from the guards, who were too busy drawing the attention of the dragon away from the civilians being herded into various houses and the village inn. All around him, it was chaos. The ground trembled and buildings shook. Giant tongues of flame that looked like miniature comets shot down from the heavens with sonic booms, exploding in a white hot fury. People shrieked and the dragon's continual roars echoed above the tumult.

Trying to stay calm in the centre of the chaos, Harry surged through the bustling screaming crowds after the blond. None too soon, the two ran into a ruined tower and Harry spotted several other Stormcloak soldiers, who had previously been captives like him. Most of them were gasping for breath and moaning in pain, looking very dishevelled, weary, and a couple were wounded. Ulfric Stormcloak was there himself and Harry eyed the man warily while leaning heavily on his legs and gasping for breath.

"Jarl Ulfric," The blond gasped as he faced his leader, shockingly calm amidst the destruction around them. "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Harry rolled his eyes and almost face-palmed. Of _course_ there would be legends about dragons. Every culture and civilization had them. Some cultures respected them, like eastern ones, while others feared and hated them, like western ones. Once again, he blinked and shook his head as his vision blurred. Damn his deranged memory!

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric said wryly.

Harry smirked. At least one of them had a level head.

"We need to move _now_!" Ulfric barked, not even bothering to turn to his men which Harry thought was strange and earned a confused frown.

At least the blond was a little more decent, echoing his master's orders while actually _looking_ at his fellow soldiers.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" He cried, while Ulfric just stood there staring off into the distance.

_Idiot, _Harry snorted.

One of the soldiers was trying desperately to clear away some rubble that had fallen in front of the entrance that led out to what was probably a balcony or stairway. The man was cursing at his lack of success and Harry wished he could help him but didn't know how. If only he could remember a spell to blow things away that would help a lot. Sadly, he didn't even have his wand with him so how the heck would that work?

His question remained unanswered though for a vicious roar followed by a sonic boom blasted the rocks apart into dozens of microscopic bits and pieces. With a yelp of surprise and pain, Harry was flung backwards and collapsed hard against some torn sacks and charred barrels. The others suffered the same fate and cried out in terror to someone called Talos as the dragon uttered a peculiar-sounding roar in what seemed like a word in a foreign language. Subsequently, he unleashed a torrent of white hot fire that surged gleefully into the cave.

It was a wonder that Harry survived at all though his hair and eyebrows were singed. Fat drops of sweat dripped down all over him and he wanted to destroy that dragon so badly for attacking him without cause. Luckily enough, the dragon's attention was diverted as someone threw a dagger at him. The dragon bellowed again, although more in annoyance and twisted its gigantic, serpentine body in pursuit of the soldier unfortunate enough to have thrown the blade.

"This way, mage!" The blond cried through his daze. "Jump through the hole and onto the beam. Escape through the inn and salvage whatever you can. Avoid the guards and run for your life. I'll meet you eventually if Talos wills it."

Harry nodded respectfully, too weak for words, and clambered painfully to his feet. Sucking in large gulps of smoke-riddled air, Harry swayed on his forced himself to take one step forward and then another until he had ambled through the hole and onto said plank of wood. He was momentarily surprised at how _right_ it felt to balance on something like this in the air. It reminded him briefly about a mode of transportation from his past life but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Swaying on his feet slightly, he stuck out his arms to maintain his balance and tip-toed hurriedly across the beam until he reached a pile of crates and barrels that was close enough to jump onto. He landed with a thud and his knees buckled. Harry groaned as he slipped and crashed down to the floor although his fall was slowed by his landing station. Once there, he glanced around trying to see if there was anything that could help him escape, some decent clothes or a weapon since his own robes were torn to shreds by his close proximity to dragon fire.

Unfortunately, everything was too heavily damaged so he dashed out onto the street once more. This time, everything was ten times worse as the soldiers were busy defending the village and guiding the villagers to safety.

At least this provided a distraction for Harry and the Stormcloak to escape. Harry felt a bit cowardly though since he had vaguely remembered facing dragons before. He didn't exactly fight them but he had encountered them a couple times and had hoped it would be the last one.

Even so, he disliked dragons and definitely disliked this one. The ones in his world hadn't been so deranged that they would attack civilians and Harry towns. Then again, given the chance to escape who knew what they'd do? Wait...where had that come from? Harry staggered and gasped as his vision blurred and his headache almost over-powered him as it seemed to do when one of these abstract thoughts popped into his head.

Breathing deeply he opened his eyes and looked around, silently deliberating if he should run for his life and give up Helgen as a lost cause or face his fear and fight the dragon with the Imperials. No matter how corrupt they might be, putting an innocent man to death to avoid legal work, at least they were defending the town and trying to protect the people even if they were doing a poor job of it.

The Stormcloaks, on the other hands, were somewhat cowardly trying to escape in the chaos of villagers being slaughtered by the dragon when they should give up their grudges and join the fight so that some lives could be saved. However, Helgen did look like a lost cause and perhaps they were right about giving up. As if to confirm his views, the little boy who lost his father simply stood there amidst the rubble while the dragon stomped and roared not more than two feet away from him. The boy just stood there listlessly as if he had given up all hope of survival.

Not everyone thought that way though since the helmetless soldier who read off the death list was in a defensive stance with another guard. Upon seeing the boy, the soldier darted over to him and guided him gently to safety. Glancing around for more survivors, the soldier spotted Harry and his eyes widened momentarily, obviously impressed.

"Still alive, prisoner?" He asked. "Then stick with me if you want to stay that way."

"What happened to executing the good with the bad just to save time and paper work?" Harry growled, not caring a second that the dragon was just about to snap them in two.

The man shot Harry an apologetic look.

"Sorry," He mumbled. "But they're the captain's orders. Skyrim has caused many problems since the ban of Talos worship and the murder of Skyrim's High King. I wanted to protest but would have been branded a traitor myself had I said anything."

Harry heaved a sigh.

The man made sense even if he didn't want to believe it. Still, he seemed the decent sort and promised him a proper burial and something told Harry these folks didn't give those honours to traitors.

"Gunmar," The Imperial ordered. "Take care of the boy, I must join the defence."

"Gods guide you, Haadvar," Gunmar said respectfully.

The soldier called Haadvar nodded briefly before dashing off past a wall of fire and the ruins of a house. Not seeing the Stormcloaks anywhere, Harry heaved a sigh and ran after the Imperial. He felt pretty bad about leaving the town to its fate while trying to run for his life. He didn't remember much about his _own_ life but something told him he had a "saving people thing" and running off with the Stormcloak rebels didn't sit well with that policy.

Gasping for breath, Harry wound his way past the darkened entrance to a tower, leapt nimbly over a deceased Imperial soldier and surged into a dingy back alley trying not to stumble on the cobblestone path.

"Stay close to the wall!" Haadvar bellowed and Harry was not one to disagree with him.

No sooner had he crouched down in the shadows than the dragon landed with a crash on the wall behind them opposite another tower or building. Harry stumbled backwards as the dragon's barbed scaled wing dropped right in front of him and the dragon opened its maw releasing another torrent of flames.

For a moment, Harry got a crazy idea of scaling up the dragon's wings and gouging out its eyes or chopping it to pieces somehow. But he had no weapon at all and even Haadvar, who had an unsheathed sword, was hiding from the beast that was right above them.

The creature obviously wasn't that smart since it didn't notice the two very big life-forms right below it. Instead, it kept roaring and burning in front of its line of site. Harry knew though that in seconds their ruse could be up and the dragon would swallow them hole so while he hated himself for not taking action, he knew he had no choice but to do so or rather, do nothing.

He didn't have to wait long though for seconds later the dragon leapt into the air with a fierce beating of wings.

"Follow me!" Haadvar cried and Harry gladly did so, wanting to put himself to work saving the village.

If he could do so, then perhaps he could prove that he was really innocent. It was far better than running off with known rebels and traitors which wouldn't look good on his resume. Not looking back, Harry ran after the Imperial darting from house to house leaping over charred bodies and darting past crackling bonfires.

Men cried out in terror as the dragon did not relent his assault. For a brief moment, Harry glimpsed some hooded people with hands outstretched and his heart leapt into his throat as he saw raw power crackling their finger tips. He could literally _smell_ magic dripping off their fingers and for one terrible moment he longed to join them.

Off to the distance, he saw Haavard run out of the entrance to the courtyard and heard him arguing with the blond who turned out to be Rolaf. The dragon swooped low over them and let out a roar. As one body, the Imperial mages jerked back their hands that were surging and crackling with power. Then their hands shot forward. Sparks of lighting, tongues of flame, and blasts of frost burst exploded as the dragon swooped low over them.

It shrieked in rage and let out a burst of flame. A mage screamed in pain as she caught fire. Her arms and legs flailed helplessly as her bodies broke into convulsions and she fell to the ground, _dead._ In a split second, everything blurred and went in slow motion. Something snapped inside of Harry Potter. He saw red and his right hand lifted up into the air. The dragon roared in triumph and Harry's eyes crackled with fury. The mages around him actually stepped back warily.

Harry felt raw power fill every fragment of his being and surge through him towards his palm. With a roar of his own, he felt something break inside him like chains being torn to shreds and a bolt of dark blue lightning exploded out of his hand. It soared through the air and leapt onto the dragon's left wing making it shriek in rage and lose its balance in the air, forcing it to land in the courtyard beyond the archway.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**A/N:** So how was it? Good? Bad? Terrible? Leave a review and let me know so I can make this even better yet!


	3. Pardons, Plans, and Prepositions

**Disclaimer:** Neither Harry Potter nor Skyrim belong to me! All rights are owned by their respective owners, Mrs. Rowling and Bethesda. I make no profit off of this story attempt and merely enjoy making my own sand castle on their beaches.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long delay folks but I finally got a full time job and I now understand the saying – "Work was murder." Well, it's not _that_ bad but it's made me shamefully lazy these days especially in regards to certain fan-fictions that need updating. So I apologize for the criminally-long delay and hope that this small update might make up for that. So without any further ado, allow me to present the next chapter of this bizarre story!

**CHAPTER 3:** Pardons, Plans, and Prepositions

When the bolt of pure energy had left Harry Potter's hand, smoke was curling outward from his fingertips and his hand was dripping with sweat. It felt red hot and Harry could only stare at it in shock and a bit of horror.

He had no idea how he had done such a thing nor did he want to know. But what little he _did_ know was that the burst of magic had toppled the dragon somewhat and judging by the looks of astonishment from the few other mages around him, he wasn't supposed to have done that.

He did not have much time to ponder the peculiarity though for suddenly a loud roar echoed in the air accompanied by the beating of wings. Harry's heart sank and he braced himself for whatever was to come but quite unexpectedly, the dragon did no attack them.

Instead, the fearsome beast leapt onto the wall. It fixed its vermillion gaze upon Harry sending chills down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he was able to vaguely see limping, bleeding Imperial soldiers crouching low as they attempted to surround the dragon with drawn bows and readied swords.

Harry wondered why none of them had spears. That seemed to fit the medieval weapons' stash most of these folks had. Heaving a sigh, he turned to face his foe who was ignoring the gathering soldiers, mages, and elves.

Its dark orbs stared at Harry and Harry stared defiantly back, standing as tall and strong as he possibly could. Half a memory fluttered in his mind briefly of terrorists who used masks and robes to intimidate people and he had once been cowed by them.

Well not again!

Taking a deep calming breath, Harry took a step forward casting warning glances at the others who froze upon the mages whispering for them to stop. It was obvious his magic made them afraid though why he had no idea. This memory loss was becoming quite the pain.

All too soon though, he stood only inches away from the great dragon who had not moved a muscle. He was so still he could have been made out of stone but the deep, ragged breathing emanating from the beast told Harry it _was_ alive, not to mention those sinister eerie orbs boring holes into his head.

Only inches away from the beast, Harry stopped and stared back at him waiting for his cue to act. He was well within snapping range of the dragon's powerful jaws not to mention he could be turned to charcoal like so many other corpses that lay forgotten in piles of rubble.

The seconds ticked by slowly and beads of sweat dripped down Harry's neck and arms. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he and the dragon held a stare down. But it wasn't just that. It was a power struggle, a test of wills. Whoever would be the first to break would be the champion here, the victor. And this battle was oddly worse than a real one.

Finally, mercifully, the dragon snapped first opening his maw revealing fine rows of jagged teeth and a serpentine tongue in that dark cavern. But instead of ripping his head off as Harry suspected he would, the dragon spoke.

A deep hissing sound slithered out of the dragon's maw making something spark in the depths of Harry's addled brain. A tongue of the serpents, he recalled. The voice of the legless ones. It was that language the dragon was speaking in and to all else it sounded like a hiss, albeit a deeper stronger one than that of a snake and something more terrible.

_**What do you call yourself, mage,**_ The dragon hissed. _**And where do you hail from?**_

For a moment, Harry was merely frozen in shock. He had not expected to exchange pleasantries with the dragon but then again, he didn't expect to engage it in a conversation either.

Giving himself a mental shake, he closed his eyes slowly and opened them again knowing that a massive, killer headache was on the rise.

_**You are an abstract anomaly,**_ The dragon continued. _**Ignore me if you wish but some might deem it wise not to do so. I know more than you have forgotten, mage. I will find out who you are, to change my plan.**_

For a split second, Harry's eyes widened and then, peals of uncontrollable laughter departed from him. From arriving to a new world, to memory loss, to _this;_ it was all too much for Harry and he had finally broken down to hysterics.

All around him, the crowd of soldiers, mages, and superiors whispered nervously and in confusion amongst themselves. They could not believe their eyes and ears that some scrawny boy was _standing_ before a dragon and laughing, _laughing,_ his head off!

Needless to say, the dragon could not believe it too and let out a roar of fury that hushed the crowd instantly.

Harry's laugh died in his throat and he gulped as he felt the dragon's hot breath wash over him. He was nearly blown over by the sheer force of the roar and his ear drums popped annoyingly. But he stood his ground and gazed upon the dragon with a deadpanned expression, not wanting everyone to know his true fear and uncertainty.

_**I shall find out who you are, Serpent-speaker!**_ The dragon vowed furiously. _**Be grateful none of my lesser cousins roam Skyrim or I would find out who you are within days. But I still have eyes and ears everywhere and some are more dangerous and cunning than others. Do not doubt for a second that I shall discover your hidden past and when I do, you shall be helpless before me and I shall fulfil my destiny.**_

With one last terrible roar, the dragon glared at Harry for a second longer and burst into the air with a tremendous beating of wings. Harry stared long after him until he was a small black dot in the sky and then vanished entirely.

Harry Potter heaved a long, weary sigh and rubbed his temples as he fought to ward off a killer headache. It was only then that he noticed how quiet things were and his eyes flew open. He spun around and froze, once more, as he saw everyone bowing before him.

Only the elves who stood afar off did not but they were huddled together in a corner, whispering furiously amongst each other and shooting glares at Harry every now and then.

A lump rose in Harry's stomach and he struggled to find the words to say. Luckily enough, he didn't have to since the man called General Tulius broke the ice for him as he pushed his way through the crowd, albeit cautiously with a hint of awe and respect in his grave eyes.

"Who are you?" The man simply asked. "Who are you that we might bestow the gratitude of the Empire for saving Helgen and fending off a dragon without even using the Voice?"

Inwardly, Harry groaned.

_Great_, He sighed. _More fame. Just want I didn't want._

But while he inwardly rued the thought of being popular in a whole new world that didn't know him yet, he realized this could come in handy. He could now prove his innocence and possibly find a way to get his memories back and get the hell out of here.

He didn't want to get caught up in a whole new war and get into conflict with dragons again. Not to mention painting a target on his back to jealous and conniving people who would surely try to use his newfound fame to their advantage.

"I will tell you what I can," Harry sighed at last. "But I wish to speak with you in private, General."

The general looked disappointed that he couldn't make a grand speech but nodded respectfully.

Heaving a small sigh, he turned to a female officer. "Legate Rikke, clean up this mess and try to round up whatever rebels you can. But focus on the people first and tend to the wounded and the dead. Mage, follow me."

Legate Rikke pounded her fist to her chest and thrust it forward in salute making Harry role his eyes. But he bit down a harsh comment and followed the General as he wove his way through the whispering soldiers.

Along the way to wherever they were headed, Harry noticed several windows and doors cracking open followed by people glancing out of them and peering cautiously into the streets. Some gasped and pointed at him, evidently having been spying on the incident from the safety of their homes.

After a short walk during which the General was flanked a few guards all of which nodded in respect of Harry, the group made their way to a small homestead that was located on the outskirts of the village. It didn't look too fancy and was miraculously untouched by the dragon's wrath.

It was here that they stopped and the General ordered the guards to stand watch outside the house, and let no one in unless it was the Legate or urgent. The guards voiced their agreement and took up positions on the front porch and around the house.

Harry shook off a feeling of unease and followed the General into the house. He was greeted by a surprisingly homey look upon opening the door. There was a simple bed in the corner, a blazing hearth with some herbs, birds, rabbits, and garlic hanging over it, some barrels, crates, and a wooden desk was shoved in the corner of the room. Two chairs stood next to it and the table was covered by maps, scrolls, books and manuscripts.

Once the door was shut softly behind them, the General took in a deep breath and sat down wearily on the table. Harry paused momentarily but took the seat opposite him and waited for the older man to break the awkward silence.

"You did a brave thing back there," The General said, staring out of a window. "Not too many would have had the nerve to stand in front of such an evil, not to mention _laugh_. Who, or should I say what, are you?"

Harry smiled dryly and twiddled with his thumbs, feeling slightly nervous for some reason. It was as if he had been in this position before with another member of authority in his office.

"My name is Harry James Potter," The boy mumbled sheepishly. "And I'm a wizard from another world although I don't expect you to believe it. I have also forgotten everything about my past save for a couple of abstract details that don't make sense. I know that coming here was an accident, no offence, and would like to get my memory back and return home in one piece if at all possible. Although that now seems highly unlikely considering the mess I made of things."

The General chuckled and glanced at Harry appraisingly.

"I believe you," He said at length. "About the mage-part at any rate. Although I do not think you are meant to be _that_ powerful for a newly arrived mage. You probably won't be able to use any more magicka for quite some time unless you drink a potion or get an amulet of restoring magicka or something."

Harry groaned and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion and nausea hit him.

"Is there any way to get my memory back?" He asked. "I know it sounds crazy and doesn't help to prove my belief that I'm innocent by the way. I don't even know what crime it was you said I committed."

"Sorry about that," The General grinned sheepishly. "I was distracted then and Legate Rikke can get a bit too zealous sometimes. Say, you wouldn't know what happened to Haavard would you?"

"No," Harry frowned. "He said he was joining you in the defence of the town and ran out towards the keep through the courtyard."

The General glared and clenched his fist on the table.

"That man is a deserter than," Tulius hissed. "He was going in the opposite direction unless I am wrong and he went to help rescue a friend which is highly unlikely. Haavard was always the pessimist. No doubt he thought victory was a lost cause. No matter, I shall have the sentries scour the land for him. He can't have gone far and will most likely make his way to Riverwood."

"Um, right," Harry mumbled. "Now about my situation..."

"Yes, yes," The General said. "Look, I can't outright be seen to help you even though you are a hero. Mages are not trusted here ever since the collapse of Winterhold. Therefore you have two options ahead of you as harsh as they might be. Interested?"

Harry shrugged.

"What have I got to lose?" He sighed.

The ghost of a smile crossed the General's grim face but faded just as fast.

"Very well," He said. "Your first choice is to head to the Mages Guild in Winterhold and seek out the Arch-Mage of Skyrim. If anyone can help you get back your memories and return home it would be him. However, should you want to help get rid of that target on your back I'd highly recommend speaking to Jarl Balgruuf in Dragonsreach at Whiterun. I hear his Court Mage has been conducting some research on dragons and might be able to help you out.

"Along the way to Whiterun, you could also stop by Riverwood to tank up on some supplies. As for proving your innocence I can let you go free but you were seen in contact with Stormcloaks when the dragon attacked. The best way to clean your reputation is by doing different quests people might give you. Some are simple tasks while others are more perilous. But each has its reward and some will even let you become the Thane of different holds. But enough rambling, you are probably weary and deserve some rest. Why don't you sleep on what I said and make up your mind in the morning.

"I can have a guide accompany you if you wish as well as supply you with whatever gear we can spare and some coin. Someone will bring you food and drink in a few moments and if you want to speak with me or the Legate, ask one of the guards. I must go supervise the aftermath of the attack though so I farewell until the morning. Feel free to explore Helgen yourself but I suggest you wait for an armed guard since some people don't like the Stormcloaks and your fame could get you in trouble with crazed fans."

The General finally fell silent and took a deep breath. Harry merely nodded, being too tired to think of a reply. He would think straight in the morning and could make a wiser decision then as opposed to on the spur of the moment.

"Thank you," He managed. "I am not too hungry but I wouldn't mind something light and something to drink would be brilliant. A change of clothes would be nice also and I think I'll hole up here for a bit if you don't mind."

"Until the morning then," The General nodded approvingly.

"Until the morning," Harry agreed.

Without another word, General Tulius stood up and gave Harry a short bow before departing from the house leaving him in silence.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know so I can make this even better yet!


	4. The Journey Begins

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Skyrim and you all know the rest!

**Author's Note:** I got an unexpected off day so I decided to write this chapter for you guys while it was still fresh in my mind. Moving on, thanks a million for all the reviews you gave. It shows that I'm doing something right and really makes my day. And now without any further ado, allow me to present you with the next update!

**CHAPTER 4:** The Journey Begins

_The sky was red with blood and gigantic tongues of flame exploded from the heavens, slamming into the earth with an alarming fury. The ground shook and rocks exploded everywhere as houses and buildings were destroyed mercilessly._

_Among the confusion and destruction, a dragon's roar echoed loud and clear._

_People screamed and ran for their lives. A brave but foolish few, mainly cops, tried to fight the invaders with what little ammunition they had. But the cops and civilians who fought against them were in panic mode and none of the bullets hit their targets. _

_The few that did bounced harmlessly off the thick dragon scales and ricocheted off somewhere or even onto a person doing more harm than good._

_It was chaos._

_But nonetheless a brave few determined to fight back. Throwing caution to the wind they revealed their most dangerous secret to the entire world in an attempt to fend off the apocalypse: Magic._

_That's right._

_Men, women, and children wearing old-fashioned robes threw spell after spell at the beasts in the air from well-worn wands. But that did little good for every witch and wizard in Great Britain knew that magic did little against a dragon. _

_And all the dragon keepers were the first to go in a surprise attack by the invaders from another world. _

_**HARRY JAMES POTTER!**__ A dragon roared, its voice translated by a rogue mage and amplified with a Sonorus charm. __**Your era is at an end! The Wizarding World is destroyed. Hogwarts is ruined and the few safe havens you might have known have shunned you, being too weak and cowardly to accept refugees. Give yourself up and you might spare what little is left of your country. Refuse, and I shall destroy you. But not just you; first I shall slaughter your friends and loved ones before your eyes in the most cruel and vicious manner I can. I will make the self-styled Dark Lord Voldermort look tame compared to what evils I can do. Choose wisely, Potter. The fate of the world rests on your shoulders.**_

_With one last final roar, the dragons flew off leaving an eerie silence in its wake only broken by agonized sobs and plaintive cries of pain and grief. _

Harry Potter awoke with a start, jolting into an upright position as he cast about frantically for his wand. He was drenched in a cold sweat and his black hair was matted and tangled, his green eyes glazed over from disorientation. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled for air.

Where was he? Had he been involved in anther accident that landed him in the hospital wing? As if on cue, his eyes got adjusted to the darkness and his mind cleared. Heaving a weary groan, Harry collapsed back into bed his eyes wide and his chest heaving as he struggled to calm down.

Even so, however, the nightmare flashed continuously before his open eyes as it was etched firmly in his head. He didn't recall much of his past but he knew it was a dark one, filled with danger and threatened by vengeful villains time and time again.

Despite all that, he had won in the end and had found a small measure of peace. But now that was all for nothing since he was thrust into this strange new world and yet again: Another conflict. This time, it was worse than ever before with fire-breathing, _talking_ dragons, a civil war, humanoid elves (something told him they were a lot smarter and more dangerous than the ones back home), and Merlin knew what out here.

He just wanted to get back home and be at peace. It was like he was a pawn on a chessboard to the powers that be. He'd win a game for whatever colour and after the game would end, he'd find some peace and quiet as the boards and pieces would be packed up and saved for a later date. Then his life would turn upside-down again and he'd be locked in another conflict, one far worse than ever before.

He wanted to get back to his previous life since something told him that if he did, he'd escape this whole new meaning of evil. But now the nightmare, no – _vision_, suggested otherwise. As always, "Harry Potter Dreams" meant something and always foretold some sort of danger he was about to face. Why he couldn't have a normal dream was beyond him. Heck, even a wet dream would be a nice change!

But no, he had to have a nightmare and a warning at that. Whatever powers that be existed, they were determined to mess with his head and drive him to the point of insanity. So long as they got what they wanted, they didn't care whether he left with his brain and memories intact. He knew that coming here was partly his fault but something told him other forces were at work and they needed his help.

He also knew, or at least the dream told him, that if he did not stop this threat of dragons then returning to his world would not help matters. If anything, they'd make things worse since his new enemies would stop at nothing to hurt him for upsetting their plans with his new and unexpected arrival. He was a stranger, a wild card. He did not follow the rules of this world and was clearly some sort of alien.

But one thing was certain: He'd hunt down the dragon and finish him for once and for all. Harry Potter knew full well that in the past he hated bullies, even dragon-sized bullies, and now was no different. The dragon had to go and he'd lend a hand in getting rid of it. He didn't know what good an amnesic, teenage wizard could do but if he could do anything he would. It would save lives, especially those in his world.

With that thought in mind, Harry felt an inward calm and smiled faintly. His plan made, he sat up slowly and glanced around the room. He saw a fresh change of clothes on a chest beside the bed. It was a brand new uniform of Imperial armour and some kind of dark blue robes similar to the ones he had seen the mages wearing. Glad for a change of clothes from his tattered old uniform, Harry stood up and shivered as the cold mountain air washed over him.

Heaving a sigh, he hastily pulled on the robe and gasped aloud as he felt a wave of healing wash over him. Except, it wasn't any ordinary healing: It was magical. For some odd reason, the robe was clearly magical as it rejuvenated his magical core and gave him a lot more magical strength than he had before. Grinning, he picked up the armour and fumbled with the straps as he pulled it over his robes. It was awkward and uncomfortable but he'd have to get used to it. People used swords and arrows in this place and he needed all the protection he could get.

Eventually, he was finished and shuffled his feet around as he tried to get used to the feeling of Imperial boots. The armour was surprisingly light but still weighed something and would definitely slow him down. But it was either that or have his insides spilled out. Neither options were preferable but he wanted to avoid the last one by far. Grimacing at the mental image, he glanced around for anything else of value and spotted a satchel on the table.

He shuffled over to the satchel and opened it. The first things he noticed were some odd-looking vials in three different colours: Red, Blue, and Green. There were a good number of each as well as some food, namely cheese, bread, and apples, and a couple flasks fashioned out of hide that probably contained water. The satchel also contained a dagger, a ring, a bag of coins and a note.

Frowning thoughtfully, Harry took out the note and scanned it.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_I am afraid to say that the departure of Ulfric Stormcloak and his friends made me have to leave Helgen unexpectedly in pursuit of them. I wanted to see you off but duty calls. If you ever decide to join the Imperial army, seek me out in Castle Dour in the City of Solitude. Seeing as you found this note, I take it you found the other supplies I left you. It's not much but the dragon attack left little else in Helgen. Whatever you wish to do, ask the guards outside for a map and horse, they will know what to do. Now you leave me little else to say but fair well and good luck on your journey, wherever it might take you._

_May the Eight Divines be with you,_

_General Tulius_

Harry heaved a sigh and put the note down.

The man seemed pretty decent and he would have liked to ask him some more questions. But he also wanted to get a move on and it seemed like that mage in Whiterun was the best option somehow. He would like to visit the mage's guild also but the man was apparently doing research in dragons and that seemed like Harry's best bet if he wanted to defeat his newfound enemy.

Heaving a sigh at his reluctantly-accepted quest, he put everything in the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He also noticed an Imperial sword lying sheathed on the mantle place over the hearth and decided to take it for extra protection. It felt good to be armed and made him feel a tad bit safer. With a bounce in his step, he opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch.

The scene that greeted him was a sad one filled with smoke and charred, broken-down buildings. An oppressive feeling hung in the air making him shudder. Thankfully, he was shaken out of his reverie by someone calling his name.

"Potter, sir!" A voice cried aloud.

Harry groaned quietly and turned around, stifling a wary feeling.

"Yes?" He asked, feeling relieved to see it was just one of the mages who he had fought with in the dragon attack.

"Are you leaving Helgen?" The mage, a woman, asked with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yes," Harry sighed. "I'm heading for Whiterun to seek out the mage there and learn more of the dragon attack. Since it seems to have some kind of grudge against me, I have to get rid of it before it does any more damage. Want to tag along?"

The woman smiled dryly but shook her head.

"As much as I'd love to go off on an adventure with the now-most famous mage in all of Cyrrodill," She quipped. "Helgen calls for my aid. I must tend the wounded and help rebuild the town. Perhaps our paths will cross again but I wish you all the best. Do you need any help for your journey?"

"General Tulius told me to ask for a map and a horse," Harry shrugged. "I could see how a map would be helpful but I don't really know how to ride."

The mage smiled in amusement. "No matter, I have a map for you then. It is a gift we mages put together in gratitude for you standing up to the dragon."

"No problem," Harry grinned.

It felt nice to be thanked for once.

The mage smiled and pulled out a map from her robe. She spread it out and Harry saw the map of a country on it. However, there were only a few names across the map and icons under the names. The map was incredibly detailed though, complete with three-dimensional lakes, valleys, and mountains that seemed to be shrouded in a type of mist.

"Incredible," He breathed.

"Thank you," The mage blushed. "This is a rather unique map that will allow you to teleport to the marked locations after you have explored them."

Harry grimaced.

"I think my arrival here had something to do with teleportation," He grumbled. "And I don't have nice feelings about teleportation from my past, although I can't quite remember it."

"Don't worry," The mage said softly, with an apologetic look. "This was made by our strongest spells and none of them are strong enough to transport you to another world. You don't have to use it for what we have dubbed "fast travel" but it might come in handy to find your way. If you touch the icon of whatever location you wish and chant _penitus_, an even more complex version of the interior map will appear. It will only show what's closest to you so if you are in a small house or are on a floor of the house then it will show most of the main features of the place. If you are outdoors or in a town or city it will show what's closest to you with the names and icons included. Unfortunately, we weren't able to implement fast travel for the interior maps."

The mage stopped to catch her breath and Harry realized his jaw had dropped open in surprise so he quickly closed it. He briefly remembered having a similar map and using it to get out of some tricky places except that it was different and had no fast travel. This could be awesome and would definitely make his journey easier.

"Thank you," He said gratefully. "This will be a huge help. Is there any way I can repay you?"

"Defeat the dragon and that will be more than enough," The mage smiled.

Harry blushed since she looked rather pretty and he got only redder when the mage smirked and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. She chuckled good-naturedly at his plight and gave him one last look before turning around and darting off to some other mages who were standing nearby and whispering heatedly to themselves.

Still in a daze from the kiss and the information, Harry heaved a sigh and, after a glance at the map, began his journey to Whiterun.

**TO BE CONTINUDE...**

**A/N:** So I know a lot of people will be mad about the whole "fast travel" thing but I like using it. Harry doesn't right now though but might use it if time's an issue. He's still pretty wary since he disliked teleportation in the books and his arrival here and all. But enough rambling and I eagerly await your reviews.

Until next time! 


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