Harry Potter: Journey to Godhood

Compared to King Llane, who firmly trusted Medivh, Lothar, another close friend of the Guardian, remained mostly silent throughout the discussion. 

Occasionally, he interjected with a question or two, but after hearing Khadgar's responses, he could only shake his head repeatedly.

Finally, Lothar spoke up.

"Llane, don't let a sense of security blind you!" he urged. 

"And if we can't count Medivh as our ally, then we hardly have the confidence to face the orcs. So let's at least listen to what they have to say!"

Lothar was right. What had sustained Llane's confidence and resolve in this fight so far, apart from the potential aid from other nations, was Medivh's presence.

This powerful mage had repeatedly helped the Kingdom of Stormwind resolve significant troubles. 

Although Medivh often mentioned that as a Guardian, he shouldn't interfere in the affairs of Azeroth's mortals, he had once helped Llane defeat the Gurubashi trolls.

Yet, even Lothar's reasoning failed to sway Llane.

"I am listening," the king said. "I'm not just listening with my ears but with my heart. We've been alongside Medivh for so many years, both before and after his slumber. 

He's always remembered his friends. If one day you can understand his perspective, I bet you'll feel nothing but immense pride in having such a remarkable friend."

The "slumber" Llane referred to was a significant episode in Medivh's youth, caused by Sargeras' attempt to control him.

At last, the king rose, adjourned the meeting, and promised to carefully consider the situation.

Khadgar was deeply disappointed by this outcome.

Unable to sleep, he paced his room in frustration for most of the night. Just as he finally felt sleepiness overtaking him, an untimely knock sounded at his door.

When he opened it, three figures were waiting for him.

At the forefront stood Lothar, fully armed, his famed greatsword, Quel'Zaram, strapped to his back. Draped over his arm was a guard's uniform.

Beside him was Alaric, cloaked in a magnificent battle robe of Dalaran origin—distinctly different from ordinary ceremonial attire. Khadgar recognized it at a glance.

The third companion was a green-skinned woman—Garona, Alaric's half-orc follower. 

A skilled rogue, she wore a tight, black outfit that highlighted her fierce and wild demeanor. 

Khadgar dared not stare too long, as the sharp and lethal daggers in her hands exuded an aura of death.

"Are you planning to sleep through this?" Lothar teased, handing the uniform to Khadgar. "Put this on and meet us at the top of the tower in fifteen minutes. Move quickly, boy."

The uniform, a standard castle guard's attire, was of poor quality and ill-fitting, meant only to help Khadgar pass the sentries unnoticed.

Reluctantly, Khadgar accepted the uniform, then glanced at Alaric and Garona, as if to ask, "Why don't they have to wear this?"

Noticing Khadgar's expression, Alaric smiled faintly and cast an invisibility spell. Under the magical shimmer, his form gradually faded into nothingness.

Garona crouched slightly and melted seamlessly into the shadows with practiced ease.

"Fine, I'm the weakest," Khadgar muttered self-deprecatingly as he resigned himself to his role.

The ensemble also included pants, boots, a blue tabard emblazoned with the lion emblem of Azeroth, and a longsword.

Hurriedly donning the gear and slinging the sword over his back, Khadgar made his way to the tower's summit.

At the top, six gryphons awaited, their massive wings unfurled, radiating eagerness.

These gryphons, provided by the Wildhammer dwarves, were not numerous enough to form a military force but were sufficient for use as messengers.

Now, they were being repurposed for another mission.

Lothar strode toward one of the gryphons, adjusting the sword on Khadgar's back for better comfort while riding.

"His Majesty," Lothar began, his tone subdued, "has too much faith in his friends. But that doesn't stop good men from acting on his behalf to correct his mistakes."

"Like us," Khadgar said with a wry smile.

"Like us," Alaric and Garona echoed with soft smiles.

"Like us," Lothar repeated. His gaze turned solemn as he addressed them. 

"Truthfully, I've had my doubts about Medivh too, especially during those times when his usual optimism gave way to isolation and volatile rage."

"You know," Khadgar said with a weary smile, "I've learned part of the truth. But I must say, I still remain loyal to him. I truly don't want what's coming to happen."

"Who would want that?" Alaric shook his head. "The Guardians are among the strongest forces in this world. 

For centuries, they've borne the banner in the fight against demons. If the Guardian is truly what we suspect..."

"My daggers are ready for whatever comes," Garona interjected.

"I know," Lothar said gravely. "I understand your feelings. Years ago, when I was your age, I tended to Medivh during his slumber. 

That slumber robbed him of much of his youth. 

At the time, I thought it was a dream. I swear, I saw another figure standing before me—bronze-skinned, horned, with a beard of flames."

"Sargeras," Alaric murmured.

Lothar let out a heavy sigh. "I thought I was dreaming. But dreams aren't always what they seem. 

For years, I remained loyal to Medivh, though I never forgot that 'dream.' Only later did I realize I had glimpsed part of the truth. 

Since then, I've known that such a day might come. If there's a chance, we might save Medivh. But if darkness has fully taken root in him, we'll have no choice but to act swiftly. 

It'll be a terrible thing—but also necessary. The question is—are you ready? Understand this: if we must do this, then it must be done."

The group fell silent for a moment, then nodded in unison.

And so, the four mounted their gryphons. Under Lothar's lead, they soared into the sky.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, the majestic beasts glowed with a golden halo in the sunlight. Their wings, spread wide, carried them into the uncertain future ahead.

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