In the end, Harry is instrumental in the defeat of Garrosh Hellscream, and the Siege of Orgrimmar could be said to have been a monumental success because of his actions. From fighting everything from goblins to sixty-foot-tall T-rex’s, by the time that they put Garrosh into the dirt, far below the city he was supposed to be leading, Harry was a bit exhausted. But he was also satisfied, because though this wasn’t necessarily his world, he’d come to care for a decent number of the people on it, and Garrosh was their enemy, so he was Harry’s enemy as well.
 
Of course, what Harry failed to notice during that final fight, given how hectic it got when Garrosh kept pulling this fucking extradimensional bullshit that sent them across planes, into some sort of past or what not, was the way the heart that the Orcish Warchief was so tied to empowered HIM as well. In the end, the Heart of Y’shaarj was not nearly as dead as all thought. Oh, the Old God himself was VERY dead indeed, but an Old God was more the sum of his parts than anything else.
 
So far beyond mortal comprehension as they were, it shouldn’t have been surprising to anyone that the Heart could have a mind of its own. But they were all too focused on their own pettiness to realize this. In the end, the Heart gave freely of its power to Harry in small, minute ways that the wizard didn’t really notice at the time, fighting for his life as he was.
 
Meanwhile, Garrosh had TAKEN from the Heart, finding a way to drain it more and more and more, until in the end, the question of the artifact’s sentience no longer mattered, because by the time they’d defeated Garrosh, he’d drained it all the way to nothingness. Even now, as the leaders of the Alliance and the Darkspear Rebellion talked about what to do with Garrosh (because despite Harry’s preference, the orc actually wasn’t dead yet…) the Heart of Y’shaarj was flaking away above them, disintegrating into so much ash now that the power held within was simply… gone.
 
It had done what it could to prod it’s chosen Champion in the directions that it wanted him to go, completely unbeknownst to Harry himself. But that? That was a story for another time. Right here, right now, as instrumental as Harry had been in the conquest of Orgrimmar and the crazed Warchief’s defeat, he was still Jaina’s apprentice at the end of the day.
 
His opinion, as the two leaderships spoke amongst themselves before even thinking about coming together, was neither wanted nor sought out. Privately, Harry doubted the Horde would disband as Jaina was almost certainly advocating they push for in this moment. If the Alliance leadership, which currently looked to be all of them save for Greymane and the Draenei Prophet, chose to side with Jaina… well, Harry was sure that war would break out again, right before his eyes.
 
Knowing Jaina, she was almost certainly advocating for them to attack the remaining Horde leaders, especially while they were all still in one place like this. If they could win here, then they could press forward and dismantle the Horde altogether. That would certainly make things a little awkward for Harry, but if he had to choose between the two, he would likely have to pick Jaina over Sylvanas.
 
While he held some degree of affection for the Banshee Queen, Jaina was… well, she was the first face he’d seen in this new world, and she’d helped him in ways that Sylvanas could never understand. Not that Harry expected the undead elf would be re-killed again anyways, if it came down to a fight. He suspected that Jaina would go out of her way to make sure Sylvanas survived, perhaps as a prisoner, but still alive. He also suspected that Jaina held just as much affection for the Banshee Queen at this point.
 
Still, when Thrall, the former Warchief, had been ready to execute Garrosh after the hard-fought battle that he’d barely participated in (though Harry could at least admit that Garrosh had sucker-punched the orc shaman pretty viciously near the start there) it had been Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, that had stopped him. And then Taran Zhu, who Harry only knew by reputation, had also stepped in and proclaimed that Garrosh needed to face trial in Pandaria for his actions.
 
… How would that all pan out if they decided to keep up hostilities, hm? Ah, they were beginning to move…
 
As the Alliance delegation finishes speaking amongst themselves and turns to walk towards the Horde huddle, Harry perks up and steps forward as well, Elder Wand in hand, ready to cast any sort of spell it will need to. Briefly, as the two groups move towards a collision, Harry finds himself wondering how the Horde’s deliberations have even been going.
 
So focused on the Alliance as he was, he hadn’t even considered it before. Regardless of if the war continued from this point on, the Horde would need a new Warchief. Who would that be, exactly? Not Sylvanas. While she might have wanted the position, Harry had an idea from what he could see of the body posture of the other leaders that she was not well-liked by ANYONE in that group.
 
Would it be Thrall again then, the old Warchief? Privately, Harry would have disagreed with the idea, if his opinion was asked of him. Because let’s be fair, Thrall bore a large portion of the responsibility for Garrosh’s actions here. From what Harry had read and been told, the orc had just left the Horde in Garrosh’s hands, and when the latter just turned around and started using the Horde to conquer new lands, Thrall had done nothing.
 
Of course, a lot of that had come from Jaina, so perhaps it was possible that her opinion was tainted. She hated Garrosh with every fiber of her being and could no more see the worth in his existence than she could in say, the Thunder King that she’d sent Harry to kill. In the end, the orc who had put Garrosh in power WOULD be just as despicable in Jaina’s eyes as Garrosh himself, regardless of what Harry had heard from other sources about what used to be something of a friendship between the Archmage and Thrall.
 
“I will SPEAK to your Warchief!”
 
Ah, but as Varian leads the Alliance leadership up to the group of Horde and they part, opening their circle to reveal the one they’ve chosen for their new Warchief, it’s not Thrall, nor is it Sylvanas. Instead, Vol’jin, the leader of the Darkspear Tribe, crouches amidst the others as he looks at the approaching human king.
 
“I speak for da Horde.”
 
For a moment, Varian stops. He pauses briefly, and Harry knows this is the moment when fighting will break out, if it’s going to break out. But rather than ordering an attack, Varian slams his sword into the ground as he steps forward, speaking. That’s about when Harry tunes out the conversation between the two males, simply because it’s become obvious that no one is going to fight right here and now, not again. It seems that the only one still filled with bloodlust is Jaina, if her frustrated expression is anything to go off of.
 
Meanwhile, now that he doesn’t need to worry about getting into the thick of it again, Harry finds himself staring at something else that was visible T H I C C. Casting a notice-me-not charm on himself makes it so that no one really acknowledges him as he steps forward and positions himself right behind Tyrande Whisperwind.
 
The Night Elf woman is none the wiser until his hands reach out and grab her curvaceous, fat badonkadonk, right through her gorgeous white dress. Tyrande lets out a squeak, but the notice-me-not charm covers them both now that he’s in contact with her. She still whips her head around in shock and anger that anyone would DARE to touch her in such a way, here of all places, but when she sees who it is, when she makes eye contact with Harry… her face shutters and she curls in on herself.
 
Harry just smiles. It’s so nice to be remembered ‘fondly’, but he imagines that Tyrande is more thinking about Ysera and how her long-time teacher betrayed her to him for nothing more than sex. Even still, the Night Elf Priestess and leader of her people doesn’t try to make a scene. If anything, her attempts to get rid of him are somewhat pitiful. Not seeming to realize that no one is paying them the slightest mind anyways, Tyrande tries to be subtle about it as she reaches back and takes swipes at his hands, attempting to get him off of her in the weakest, silliest of ways.
 
Her soft smacks are nothing, and Harry continues his molestation of her gorgeous derriere unhindered. Eventually, he begins to hike up her dress, sliding it up in the back until he can start grabbing at her legs and her delicious THICC thighs without having fabric in the way. Tyrande coughs to hide the squeak that erupts from her lips at that, and her smacking at his pawing hands gets a little more insistent, until eventually she seems to realize what she must look like and stops altogether.
 
Still not recognizing that magic is what’s keeping everyone from seeing her and Harry, rather than just simply very good luck, Tyrande brings her hands up in front of herself and clasps them together, trying to maintain her composure in the face of his molestations. And to be fair, once she focuses her all on hiding her reactions rather than the frankly pitiful attempts at stopping him, she does quite well for herself.
 
He’s not that surprised, it’s the least one should expect from a woman who has thousands of years of life under her belt. Tyrande Whisperwind is not human, and not like most of the females Harry has interacted with. The only other even comparable to her is Ysera, and when it comes to personalities, at least in Harry’s presence, they couldn’t be further apart.
 
Regardless, Harry has a plan. More than that, he has a gift for Tyrande. Smirking as he hikes her white dress up all the way over her purple-skinned ass, taking a moment to grope and squeeze her big fat butt cheeks directly, before tugging at her panties and giving her something of a wedgie that provokes a grunt from the frozen Night Elf. Harry just grins at her reaction, or lack thereof. Then, he pulls the underwear down to Tyrande’s thighs, off of her ass… and her dripping wet cunt.
 
Perhaps he shouldn’t be, but he is a little surprised to find just how turned on by all this Tyrande is. It seems that while her mind presumably recovered from their time in that Moon Well together, her body has not, because her underwear peels away from her sopping pussy lips rather than just tugging down as Harry expects.
 
But her cunt isn’t what he’s aiming for anyways. Harry allows himself a chuckle of acknowledgement, and he notes the way Tyrande stiffens as she hears his voice, but then he reaches into his pouch and pulls out his gift with one hand, even as the other pulls at one of her ass cheeks, spreading it to the side. The vibrating anal beads that have seen so much use of late, come up and with great care, Harry begins to push the first of the large orbs into Tyrande’s ass.
 
He hears the exhalation of hair as she gasps, and the inhalation as she breathes in through flaring nostrils, but other than that… truth be told, Harry is impressed by Tyrande’s iron will. He’s distinctly impressed. That doesn’t stop him of course. Oh no, Harry continues to feed the anal beads into the Night Elf woman’s ass one by one, groping her butt with his free hand all the while, enjoying the way she reacts just slightly to each individual bead.
 
The vibrations increase as each orb is pushed past her sphincter, and by the time Harry is done, leaving only a small loop to tug on hanging from between Tyrande’s purple buttocks, said buttocks are jiggling. Her ass cheeks are rippling from the vibrations as Harry pulls her underwear back up over her ass, giving her a slight wedgie again that causes her to gasp once more. He lets her white dress drop back over her shapely behind and long legs, stepping back from the tall woman as she trembles slightly, clearly attempting to keep her composure above all else.
 
After admiring her for a moment, Harry steps in and whispers something for only her long, knife-like ears to hear. They twitch in his direction, so he knows she’s heard him despite no other outward response to what he’s said. Harry just smirks, not needing verbal confirmation to know she’ll do what he’s told her regardless.
 
With things clearly coming to an end, some sort of temporary agreement made between the Alliance and the Horde that would likely see the Alliance pulling back from Orgrimmar altogether, Harry steps away from Tyrande and moves to Jaina’s side, dropping the notice-me-not charm when he gets there. Jaina is the only one who notices him doing so, but from the looks of things, both she and Sylvanas can tell that something happened with Tyrande, given the knowing glances they’re directing at the Night Elf leader as Tyrande struggles to exit the room with her buckling, shaking knees.
 
Harry just smiles and reaches out to give Jaina’s ass a grope as well, leaning in at the same time to murmur in the Archmage’s ear.
 
“Shall we retire?”
 
Jaina exhales a little, but in the end nods. She doesn’t look as angry as he would have expected her to be, and Harry can only imagine that’s because her mutual respect or rivalry or whatever the fuck one can call her relationship with Sylvanas has tempered her anger and hatred towards the Horde as a whole, just a little bit.
 
Regardless, their work here is done, and Harry is, truth be told, happy to return to Dalaran. It’s been far too long…
 
-x-X-x-
 
“… I wonder, how exactly are we supposed to pass the time until Garrosh’s trial begins?”
 
It’s a nice little reprieve from all the fighting, Harry will admit that. Back in Dalaran, he’s just lounging about, naked of course. Jaina and Sylvanas lean in on either side of him, just as naked.
 
“Well, there are plenty of parts of Azeroth you haven’t seen yet. In Northrend alone, there are titan constructs you may be interested in exploring.”
 
“Azeroth is a vast and dangerous place. You may find yourself biting off more than you can chew…”
 
Harry lifts an eyebrow at that, not having expected the tempered, cautious response to come from the Banshee Queen of all people. She just continues to nuzzle and kiss at his neck and chest though, while Jaina frowns a little, seeming to consider Sylvanas’ words. After a moment, the Archmage also moves on to kissing at his chest, licking at his pecs. It seems she’s taking her rival’s words to heart, and Harry can just imagine that both of them are now considering how best to keep him in Dalaran, so he doesn’t get himself killed.
 
Cute, but Harry isn’t about to let anyone stop him from having his fun. He’s got an idea of what he wants to do next, but for now, he’ll keep it close to the chest. After all, for now, he has a guest over. Looking down between his legs, Harry grins as Tyrande glares up at him from her position throating his cock, while her hands are occupied with pleasuring both Jaina and Sylvanas as they writhe against him.
 
Vereesa is there too, of course, but right now the most petite of the four females is pinned beneath her Night Elf counterpart, giving Harry a rim job. Tyrande is really the only one not at all happy to be there, but even she… even she is having fun, not that she’ll ever admit it. He’d gotten her to come via the anal beads in her ass. It had been a simple spell from his world that had locked the vibrating sex toy up inside of her, so that only HE could pull it free… if he wanted to.
 
But that simple spell was an out-of-context problem for dear Tyrande, and though it’d been a couple days since the Siege of Orgrimmar ended, here she was now, finally bowing to his whims, submitting to his desires. Reaching out, Harry grabs a fistful of Tyrande’s hair, which by this point, has been completely ruined, her style utterly destroyed by his rough fucking of her throat.
 
Pulling her face off his cock just as roughly, Harry uses his other hand to callously smack his slick, saliva-coated dick all over her face. Grinning ferally as she whimpers and then scowls up at him, Harry gives Tyrande a nod.
 
“Get on bitch. Time to ride the Harry Express.”
 
Jaina groans at that, while Sylvanas snickers. The fact that the Banshee Queen has a weird sense of humor has not been something that Harry has missed, but truth be told, he doesn’t care how cheesy he sounds. All that matters is Tyrande doing as she’s told. Her face is very clearly conflicted as he lets go of her hair and lets her rise herself up.
 
But in the end, the Priestess of Elune still does as she’s been ordered, squatting down over his cock, reaching out and grabbing his thick meaty shaft. Her subconscious has her stroking it before she can even stop herself, and slowly but surely, she impales herself on his member, getting ‘onboard’ the ‘Harry Express’.
 
“Hands behind your head.”
 
As Tyrande begins to ride him, she does as she’s told. Lacing her fingers through her hair and together, Tyrande exposes her entire body in all it’s glory as her look of hatred soon becomes conflicted with both lust and humiliation. Bouncing up and down on Harry’s cock is probably the last place she’d want to be if she wasn’t such a slut, if she wasn’t such a needy whore for his dick, and they both knew it. They both knew her true feelings.
 
Meanwhile, now that her hands are behind her head, neither Jaina nor Sylvanas are getting fingered any longer. Vereesa is still pinned, and if anything, every bounce of Tyrande, every impact of her down onto his cock is forcing the poor High Elf, the Ranger-General of the Silver Covenant, deeper into her unenviable task of giving Harry a rim job. Regardless, now that Jaina and Sylvanas have been derived of their own pleasure, they aren’t so keen to sit on the sidelines.
 
Leaning up as Tyrande continues to ride Harry, gyrating her hips unconsciously and moaning louder and louder from the reluctant pleasure she’s being forced to experience, Jaina and Sylvanas each reach out and grab one of the Night Elf’s large tits. Her purple chest truly is impressive, her mammaries massive and soft and jiggly, as breasts should be.
 
The Archmage and the Banshee Queen take great delight in abusing and playing with Tyrande’s titties, molesting, kneading, and mauling her to their heart’s content. Meanwhile, the Priestess of Elune can do nothing but take it, as she continues to try and ride him. But Tyrande is getting slower and slower, and Harry isn’t inclined to let that happen. His hands come up, and he grabs the purple-skinned elf by her wide, breedable hips, gripping tightly and beginning to thrust up into her cunt with all his might.
 
Glowing eyes go wide, and then roll back in their skull as Tyrande orgasms on the spot, letting out a loud, wanton moan and tossing her head back in unwanted but undeniable ecstasy. Seeing this, Sylvanas pulls her hand back, letting Jaina have both of the Night Elf leader’s tits… right up until the Banshee Queen brings up the pair of barbell nipple piercings that Harry gave her earlier with very specific instructions on when to use them.
 
By this point in time, Tyrande’s nipples are engorged and elongated, and it’s not at all hard for Sylvanas to pierce and cap off each one with Jaina’s help. As she applies the piercings to Tyrande, letting each barbell protrude from the freshly pierced nipples as small little trails of blood drip down her large breasts, the Night Elf comes out of her ecstasy positively screaming into the heavens over the pain.
 
Her breasts are dangerously sensitive, something Harry already knew from their previous experience. Now, that sensation combined with everything else as she bounces and gyrates up and down on his hated cock proves to just be far too much for Tyrande. For the Night Elf woman, this… this is both her greatest nightmare, and her most wanton dream.
 
Harry’s hated cock has haunted her every slumbering moment and her waking moments since it defiled her before her Goddess, since her teacher betrayed her. Harry had taken her and used her to desecrate a Moon Well, and there was nothing Tyrande could do about that, no way for her to make things right. Even now, she was breaking, even now she was unable to hold back her pleasure. It washes over her and Tyrande climaxes again and again right before Harry’s eyes… and Jaina’s and Sylvanas’ as well.
 
The two other women are clearly jealous of the time that the Night Elf is getting to spend on Harry’s cock, because they’re absolutely abusive as they work to further her torment, even using their mouths on her freshly pierced nipples, working their tongues all over the new barbell piercings that Tyrande is now graced with.
 
At the same time, her hands are still laced together behind her head. She looks like such a whore like that, even as she tries to hide her reactions by turning her face and burying it in her left arm. Taking in the moment, taking it all in, Harry can’t help but cum. It’s a gorgeous scene, and he was already close from earlier, what with Tyrande choking on his cock like the good little cocksucker she is.
 
With a roar, Harry slams Tyrande down to meet his cock, even as he thrusts up into her with all his might, his massive length easily piercing her cervix and entering her womb. He fills her to the brim with his man meat, and then he begins to cum and paints her insides white with his seed. A fair bit of his cum explodes out of Tyrande’s cunt because his cock is already occupying so much space, but more than half of the thick load of seed remains, causing Tyrande’s belly to actually expand in a rather grotesque manner, leaving her womb bloated, as if she’s pregnant or something.
 
Tyrande’s mouth is wide open and her eyes are rolled up in her head as she feels this, as she freezes up and just bluescreens in the face of her body being stuffed full of both cock and seed alike. It’s in this moment, with everyone unmoving as climax happens, that Vereesa finally manages to free herself and crawl out from under everything, licking her lips and grinning.
 
As Tyrande comes down from her ecstatic pleasure high, whimpering and looking down at her distended belly, a pair of thin, high elf hands slides over her purple flesh as Vereesa wraps her arms around the Night Elf from behind, giggling into her ear as she languidly rubs Tyrande’s stomach.
 
“Mm, congratulations… I’m sure it’ll be a boy.”
 
Tyrande shudders at those words, though whether its in disgust or arousal, Harry can’t tell. Perhaps a bit of both? Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter in the end, at least not to him. Vereesa though, it seems is not done quite yet.
 
“Still… you could look more like a real mother-to-be. With another load in the right hole…”
 
When the Ranger-General pulls Tyrande off of Harry’s cock and begins to push her forward so that the tip of his member slots in between those fat purple ass cheeks he was having fun with earlier, the man himself doesn’t have any problem with it. He lifts an eyebrow in surprise, but he’s all for a bit of anal play to top things off.
 
However, Tyrande certainly comes back to life at the realization of what Vereesa has planned.
 
“W-Wait! You can’t… there’s already something in my b-butt!”
 
But Vereesa just ignores the Night Elf woman’s pleas, and with Jaina and Sylvanas helping her out, the three women have no issues with forcing Tyrande down onto Harry’s cock again, this time burying his shaft in her ass. He feels his cockhead coming into contact with the final vibrating bead in the chain, and a groan rips out of Harry’s throat as the sensations reverberate up his entire shaft. He cums a little right then and there, to tell the truth, though its more precum than an actual ejaculation.

Regardless, Vereesa, Jaina, and Sylvanas aren’t letting up. They continue to force Tyrande down onto his cock, which in turn forces the string of anal beads further up into the poor Priestess of Elune’s bowels. Luckily, he can always use magic to remove the sex toy, because that loop at the end that he WOULD have used to pull it out is long gone by now.
 
“N-No… please… mercy…”

As Tyrande’s begging grows weaker and weaker, her voice slurring, Vereesa has a savage sort of grin on her face, as if she’s pleased to see the Night Elf suffering. Probably something to do with Night Elves and High Elves and whatever history lies between them. Harry doesn’t rightly care one way or another, he’s simply enjoying the sensation of his cock buried in Tyrande’s ass, the anal beads vibrating against his length at this point.
 
Meanwhile, it seems Jaina is growing weary of her physical contributions and wants to show off a little bit. The spell she casts on Tyrande isn’t something Harry recognizes, nor is it something that even Tyrande recognizes. But that’s just fine, because the results are immediate. Her already large breasts begin to swell slightly larger still, and then milk begins to spray quite messily from her freshly pierced nipples, a strange sensation that Tyrande is clearly unaccustomed to if the uncharacteristic squeal is anything to go off of.
 
Her eyes cross and she shakes and trembles as quite delicious milk rains down on Harry from above. It’s about then that he finally decides to sit up. Getting off of his back, Harry wraps his arms around Tyrande, placing them between her and Vereesa as he holds her close and thrusts up into her rectum, bouncing her on his lap all the while, perhaps even harder and faster than before.
 
Tyrande, meanwhile, is beside herself with emotion by this point. It’s obvious that she can’t decide between disgust, loathing, hatred, anger… or lust, arousal, ecstasy, and bliss. She’s humiliated, degraded, and defiled, but she’s also clearly enjoying it far more than she should be, and they all know it too.
 
It’s time for her to recognize it, Harry thinks. It’s time for her to take a good long look in the mirror. Which, luckily, he can provide for her. Grinning wickedly, Harry conjures a nice large mirror behind his head for Tyrande to look into. Given her height, the tall Night Elf is currently over a foot above him eye wise, leaving her breasts at perfect level for Harry to bury his face in and enjoy.
 
Meanwhile, Tyrande’s gaze eventually comes uncrossed and she focuses on the sight before her, not quite recognizing her own lewd reflection at first. But even as she gets pounded from below, the sensations overwhelming everything, this is something for her to focus on, something for her cognizant mind to latch onto and use to anchor herself.
 
Probably not the best thing to do so though, because it just means she realizes how LEWD and PERVERTED she looks, how utterly slutty and whorish her current expression is. She’s not a Priestess of Elune right now, she looks… she looks like nothing more than a common street tramp on some corner in Stormwind. Shame fills her, but with the ecstasy that she’s being forced to absorb, the shame is soon washed away. And then Harry is cumming again, filling her ass and bowels with his seed, and her belly expands all the further, making her look increasingly pregnant.
 
Would that be so bad? Carrying his child? The thought hits Tyrande, like a whisper in the back of her mind. Once she realizes that she’s had it, something in her… snaps. That’s the moment that the Night Elf leader breaks, and her expression of mixed hatred and pleasure becomes one of blissful contentment. In the end, Tyrande can only coo softly as she reaches out and rubs her distended stomach.
 
Then, her eyes roll back in her head and her body follows as it falls back off of Harry’s cock, causing Vereesa to have to catch her. Harry watches this, somewhat amused. As Tyrande is dragged completely free of his thick, massive member, and set aside to rest up, he does use a bit of magic to pull the anal beads back into their original position, lining the entry of her anal passage and vibrating continuously.
 
That’s about all he has time to do before Vereesa leaps at him, and he’s got his hands full fucking the Ranger-General of the Silver Covenant into sweet blissed-out oblivion next. After her, he has to deal with Jaina and Sylvanas as well of course, but Harry’s not all that worried about it. At the end of the day, he’s got enough mojo to go around, and not a single one of them is coming out of it coherent or cognizant. He’s going to fuck each and every one of them into a blissful coma.
 
Though, even as Harry sets out to do this, he does consider his plans. He’s decided on what he’s going to do while he waits for Garrosh’s trial. It’s kind of a… strange idea, but it’s one he’s been considering for a while now. The Caverns of Time are not a completely unknown quantity to the Kirin Tor, which is why Harry knows about it from his extensive reading.
 
The home of the Bronze Dragonflight, or at least the majority of said Dragonflight, is apparently located in the southern tip of Kalimdor, in a desert called Tanaris. Bit of a journey from Northrend to there, all things considered, but given the travel options, it was probably just a portal or two out of Harry’s grasp. Though that depended on whether he was taking any of these women with him, he supposed.
 
Because Harry WAS going to go to the Caverns of Time. He had decided that he was going to pay it a visit, so that he could take a look at Azeroth’s history firsthand. What other world could he possibly do that on, besides perhaps his own? But even then, pensieves were so very limited in their construction and design. What they could do was pretty spectacular, but they only showed one person’s perspective.
 
Likewise, time turners were also extremely limited, though that made sense given that going back too far would likely be disastrous. But apparently the Bronze Dragonflight had ways of handling things and making it alright, so Harry figured if he could find the right Bronze Dragon to be his escort, he could go exploring and have some fun in Azeroth’s past.
 
There were a lot of events he’d read about that Harry would love to experience firsthand. So that was what he was going to do, one way or another. But first… he had some lovely ladies to give his full attention to. As Vereesa’s, and then Sylvanas’, and then Jaina’s orgasmic cries fill the room, Harry’s thoughts are filled with history, and what Azeroth’s has in store for him.
 
No matter what, he was sure he’d have lots of fun.

-x-X-x-

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