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crossoverficTitle:The Soul Has Bandaged Moments
Author: serendu
Fandoms: Harry Potter & Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG at the moment.
Summary:Harry Potter was 18 when he first stepped into Atlantis.
Title: The Soul Has Bandaged Moments
With luck this links to Chapter 1
Disclaimers: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing also Kawoosh! Productions and Gekko Film Corporation, and Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer Television. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: None
Author Notes: Not so much a one shot now. Also – apologies my timeline is a bit mucked up. I was going on school finishing in late July (the 21st around these parts – thank you very much teacher friend) but having checked the Harry Potter Lexicon I found that Hogwarts finishes earlier than I had thought. So – well spotted all those who noticed my error! Hopefully this chapter will clear things up.
My second post to crossover fic. Who knows what I'll manage this time...
Also – to those who asked what an ASBO is – it is an acronym for Anti-Social Behaviour Order which can be issued for all manner of misdemeanours by the courts in the UK to curb anti-social behaviour.
Life has become rather weird for me at the moment – so I don’t really know when the next chapter of this will be written. Nevertheless I do have some ideas. Hopefully I will manage to jot them down asap.
***
Harry lay on the ground camouflaged. He’d been there for several hours. His only contact had been two hours ago with the other two members of his strike team.
‘Cold. Wet. What is it with Voldemort and rubbish meeting places? Couldn’t he have picked the Canary Islands or something? I hope this meeting starts soon.’ Harry thought as he refrained from moving for what seemed like the millionth time.
Surrounding the graveyard he had once duelled Voldemort, Harry was hoping that his instincts and visions were right and that Voldemort would indeed turn up tonight.
Suddenly, just as Harry was beginning to wonder if anything would ever happen, black cloaked visitors began to apparate into the graveyard, all bowing in turn to their master, who seemed to come from thin air – but not by apparition. He seemed to dominate all the other cloaked and masked figures easily.
Come on Voldy. Just get into range.’
He surveyed them slowly, and then spoke, ‘Welcome Death Eaters, to a night that will prove to be our night.’
Harry coolly and calmly adjusted his rifle as he had many times over the past year, checked his scope to ensure his accuracy, gently squeezed the trigger, and fired. At the same time two other shots rang out, all hitting their target with deadly accuracy.
Harry remained calm as he watched the ensuing panic of the Death Eaters as they tried desperately to work out how their master was injured. But the two rounds that hit Voldemort showed no mercy.
The third, fired by Alan, had hit Peter Pettigrew. A grim warning for those who betrayed their friends.
Harry smirked as he remembered exactly what had happened to Pettigrew. Two hours after Harry’s strike team had dealt with Voldemort, a rather stunned looking Rita Skeeter had apparated into the graveyard, only to be faced with the very dead Pettigrew.
Her article on Pettigrew had ensured that Sirius Black was exonerated, and his estate gifted with a very large sum of compensation from the Ministry, to be distributed as Lord Black’s last will and testament stated.
Harry had gotten very drunk that night. He was seventeen.
***
Pausing from his unpacking for a moment, he glanced out of his window as his mind took a turn to the day he had made his move to control his own life.
It had, of course not been as easy to sign up as he had hoped. Finding out that Harry was not quite old enough to sign up had caused a bit of bother at the recruitment office. Fortunately, Alan had not forgotten the possibility of him turning up, and certain allowances were made.
Then the investigation of the Dursleys was revealed, and things moved at a much faster pace for Harry. Once his sixteenth birthday rolled around, he formally signed the papers to join his chosen branch of the British Armed Forces, the Royal Air Force.
***
‘I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.’ Harry said, looking up at Alan as he sat in Alan’s rented flat half a mile away from Privet Drive, playing with the can of coke he held in his hands.
Alan sat down in the armchair opposite Harry, before taking a long drink from his bottle of lager. ‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more to all this than you’re telling me?’ He looked meaningfully at Harry, ‘Like that piece of wood you always carry around with you. Want to explain about that?’
Harry’s hand automatically went to where he carried his wand. How can I tell him? What will they do to him when they find out what I’ve told him – if I tell him? I don’t know what to do!
‘Look kid, whatever it is – just tell me.’ Alan sat back in his chair, watching Harry’s face showing what was going through Harry’s mind. ‘We’ll deal with whatever you’re so worried about later.’
Harry took a deep breath and then focused his gaze on Alan. ‘Ok then.’ He paused before blurting out, ‘Do you believe in magic?’
***
Harry grinned as he settled onto his bed in Atlantis. It had taken some serious talking to convince Alan of the truth. Unbelievably it had been Harry’s glasses that had ultimately convinced him that there was something in what Harry was saying. Not being able to demonstrate anything had given Harry some serious trouble in convincing Alan not to think he had totally lost his marbles.
‘Look, if my glasses get wet, the water doesn’t stick – but your sunglasses have all droplets over them.’
‘And just how do you explain that – no – don’t tell me – magic right?’ Alan muttered exhaustedly.
‘Right!’
He grinned. Fortunately his lack of a paper trail for going to school had also cemented Alan’s belief in him.
‘There’s just too many coincidences in your story for it to be totally made up.’ Alan said ruefully. ‘So I guess this is the part where I say sorry for not believing in you sooner, kid.’
‘I wish I could show you Diagon Alley…’
‘But its too soon and they might be looking for you.’ Interrupted Alan.
‘Maybe after I finish training?’
‘Right kid. You and me going into the witching world.’
‘Wizarding world.’
‘Right. Wizarding world.’ Alan said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. ‘I say we order pizza.’ He said, reaching for the phone. ‘I think we’re both too tired after talking about all this to even think of cooking anything. Any preferences?’
Ultimately it had taken a trip to Diagon Alley over a year later to totally ensure that Alan believed him when it came to the existence of the wizarding world.
***
Fortunately before the visit, and just after he had signed up, Alan realised that if Harry was indeed telling the truth then a few letters needed to be sent. Using Hedwig, one was sent to Gringotts to suspend any and all activity from his accounts until he would turn up at a later unspecified date to deal with all his financial accounts personally. Also the goblins were to ensure a new key was made as he did not possess his old one.
Harry had sat down to tell Hedwig his plans, whilst Alan shook his head in disbelief in the background. Hedwig had nodded and nipped his fingers before setting off to Gringotts. Harry got the feeling it would be some time before he saw her again.
A second letter had to be sent via muggle post to Hermione, ensuring she was aware that he had voluntarily quit living with the Dursleys and would be out of touch whilst he was in training. Harry and Alan decided it would be best for him not to tell her what type of training he was undergoing.
‘With any luck, she’ll think Dumbledore is behind it, and he won’t want to break his illusion that he knows everything by admitting he isn’t.’ Harry said optimistically to Alan as he stuck the stamp to the envelope. ‘And a P.O. Box for all my mail to go in the meantime.’
‘Plus, you’ve included letters for your friend Ron and his family and Remus with hers so she can pass them all on – instead of you worrying about any of your post being intercepted by anyone else.’
‘Death Eaters.’ Stated Harry on agreement.
‘Dumbledore.’ Countered Alan.
***
Harry smirked as he remembered exactly how Alan felt about Dumbledore. ‘No love lost there.’
Alan hadn’t even met Dumbledore, but in his words, ‘Anyone who is thick enough to leave a kid to grow up with that family and not check on you even once, deserves all the contempt I can give him. Not counting how you grew up not knowing anything about the world your parents lived in. Or how you seem to have to deal with all the mistakes he’s made over the years… Kid, if he was the headmaster of a non magical school, he wouldn’t be fired – he’d be shot.’
***
And then there was basic training itself. Of course, he had not found basic training particularly easy. At first following orders had seemed almost impossible with his current state of distrust regarding authority figures he had encountered throughout his life so far. Fortunately, he’d also realised pretty quickly that if he didn’t wise up then he would, in the words of one of his trainer’s ‘be out on his ear before you can blink’.
He had discovered that he was actually good at most tasks he had been given during training. The only problem he had encountered was working out exactly what he wanted to do as a role within the R.A.F. He was half-heartedly looking at a list of options open to him as he sat on his bed in his quarters, whilst he pondered what choices to make.
My lack of Muggle school knowledge isn’t really helping. He noted ruefully as he looked at the list of possibilities. I bet Hermione would know what I need to do to be qualified for each job. He sighed and wondered for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing. I couldn’t stay there anymore though. He reasoned with himself. Not with knowing about the prophecy and Dumbledore not helping me train to face Voldemort. He shook his head as he remembered the scene in Dumbledore’s office, gazing out of the window as his memories played in his mind’s eye.
If he had told me why I needed to learn Occulmency from Snape I would have tried harder. Didn’t he realise his whole avoidance of me wasn’t exactly building trust between the two of us? He paused for a moment as realisation sunk in. It seems like the longer I’m away from them all – the more I question stuff. I mean, its not like Muggles are helpless. Why the heck don’t they just tell the Muggles that Voldemort is a terrorist and get a hand in defeating him? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t live if the R.A.F. accidentally dropped a bomb on his headquarters or something!
He looked down at the list again and sighed. I wonder if there’s a phone around here so I can ask Alan about this stuff?
***
‘So what do you like?’ Came the voice down the crackly telephone line.
‘Erm, flying. And fixing things.’
‘Right, well you don’t have the qualifications yet. But now that we both know what you want to be doing, we can get that fixed in no time.’
And Harry found himself enrolling in several courses designed to give him the qualifications he needed.
***
His mind came back to the present. Voldemort’s death had just been the beginning. The strike team of three had forged a tight bond, leading him to Atlantis.
He had just begun to relax on his bed when his door chimed before opening.
‘Hey there stick-boy.’
***
Extra notes: P.O. Box can be used to deliver mail to a specific Royal Mail delivery office instead of an address.
I am well aware that the legal age for drinking alcohol in the UK is eighteen (unless its wine with a meal with your guardian – then its sixteen I believe). I also remember drinking alcohol in a pub at the age of fourteen - so before anyone asks – yep he’s underage and no one stopped him. Thank you.
Author: serendu
Fandoms: Harry Potter & Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG at the moment.
Summary:Harry Potter was 18 when he first stepped into Atlantis.
Title: The Soul Has Bandaged Moments
With luck this links to Chapter 1
Disclaimers: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing also Kawoosh! Productions and Gekko Film Corporation, and Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer Television. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: None
Author Notes: Not so much a one shot now. Also – apologies my timeline is a bit mucked up. I was going on school finishing in late July (the 21st around these parts – thank you very much teacher friend) but having checked the Harry Potter Lexicon I found that Hogwarts finishes earlier than I had thought. So – well spotted all those who noticed my error! Hopefully this chapter will clear things up.
My second post to crossover fic. Who knows what I'll manage this time...
Also – to those who asked what an ASBO is – it is an acronym for Anti-Social Behaviour Order which can be issued for all manner of misdemeanours by the courts in the UK to curb anti-social behaviour.
Life has become rather weird for me at the moment – so I don’t really know when the next chapter of this will be written. Nevertheless I do have some ideas. Hopefully I will manage to jot them down asap.
***
Harry lay on the ground camouflaged. He’d been there for several hours. His only contact had been two hours ago with the other two members of his strike team.
‘Cold. Wet. What is it with Voldemort and rubbish meeting places? Couldn’t he have picked the Canary Islands or something? I hope this meeting starts soon.’ Harry thought as he refrained from moving for what seemed like the millionth time.
Surrounding the graveyard he had once duelled Voldemort, Harry was hoping that his instincts and visions were right and that Voldemort would indeed turn up tonight.
Suddenly, just as Harry was beginning to wonder if anything would ever happen, black cloaked visitors began to apparate into the graveyard, all bowing in turn to their master, who seemed to come from thin air – but not by apparition. He seemed to dominate all the other cloaked and masked figures easily.
Come on Voldy. Just get into range.’
He surveyed them slowly, and then spoke, ‘Welcome Death Eaters, to a night that will prove to be our night.’
Harry coolly and calmly adjusted his rifle as he had many times over the past year, checked his scope to ensure his accuracy, gently squeezed the trigger, and fired. At the same time two other shots rang out, all hitting their target with deadly accuracy.
Harry remained calm as he watched the ensuing panic of the Death Eaters as they tried desperately to work out how their master was injured. But the two rounds that hit Voldemort showed no mercy.
The third, fired by Alan, had hit Peter Pettigrew. A grim warning for those who betrayed their friends.
Harry smirked as he remembered exactly what had happened to Pettigrew. Two hours after Harry’s strike team had dealt with Voldemort, a rather stunned looking Rita Skeeter had apparated into the graveyard, only to be faced with the very dead Pettigrew.
Her article on Pettigrew had ensured that Sirius Black was exonerated, and his estate gifted with a very large sum of compensation from the Ministry, to be distributed as Lord Black’s last will and testament stated.
Harry had gotten very drunk that night. He was seventeen.
***
Pausing from his unpacking for a moment, he glanced out of his window as his mind took a turn to the day he had made his move to control his own life.
It had, of course not been as easy to sign up as he had hoped. Finding out that Harry was not quite old enough to sign up had caused a bit of bother at the recruitment office. Fortunately, Alan had not forgotten the possibility of him turning up, and certain allowances were made.
Then the investigation of the Dursleys was revealed, and things moved at a much faster pace for Harry. Once his sixteenth birthday rolled around, he formally signed the papers to join his chosen branch of the British Armed Forces, the Royal Air Force.
***
‘I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.’ Harry said, looking up at Alan as he sat in Alan’s rented flat half a mile away from Privet Drive, playing with the can of coke he held in his hands.
Alan sat down in the armchair opposite Harry, before taking a long drink from his bottle of lager. ‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more to all this than you’re telling me?’ He looked meaningfully at Harry, ‘Like that piece of wood you always carry around with you. Want to explain about that?’
Harry’s hand automatically went to where he carried his wand. How can I tell him? What will they do to him when they find out what I’ve told him – if I tell him? I don’t know what to do!
‘Look kid, whatever it is – just tell me.’ Alan sat back in his chair, watching Harry’s face showing what was going through Harry’s mind. ‘We’ll deal with whatever you’re so worried about later.’
Harry took a deep breath and then focused his gaze on Alan. ‘Ok then.’ He paused before blurting out, ‘Do you believe in magic?’
***
Harry grinned as he settled onto his bed in Atlantis. It had taken some serious talking to convince Alan of the truth. Unbelievably it had been Harry’s glasses that had ultimately convinced him that there was something in what Harry was saying. Not being able to demonstrate anything had given Harry some serious trouble in convincing Alan not to think he had totally lost his marbles.
‘Look, if my glasses get wet, the water doesn’t stick – but your sunglasses have all droplets over them.’
‘And just how do you explain that – no – don’t tell me – magic right?’ Alan muttered exhaustedly.
‘Right!’
He grinned. Fortunately his lack of a paper trail for going to school had also cemented Alan’s belief in him.
‘There’s just too many coincidences in your story for it to be totally made up.’ Alan said ruefully. ‘So I guess this is the part where I say sorry for not believing in you sooner, kid.’
‘I wish I could show you Diagon Alley…’
‘But its too soon and they might be looking for you.’ Interrupted Alan.
‘Maybe after I finish training?’
‘Right kid. You and me going into the witching world.’
‘Wizarding world.’
‘Right. Wizarding world.’ Alan said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. ‘I say we order pizza.’ He said, reaching for the phone. ‘I think we’re both too tired after talking about all this to even think of cooking anything. Any preferences?’
Ultimately it had taken a trip to Diagon Alley over a year later to totally ensure that Alan believed him when it came to the existence of the wizarding world.
***
Fortunately before the visit, and just after he had signed up, Alan realised that if Harry was indeed telling the truth then a few letters needed to be sent. Using Hedwig, one was sent to Gringotts to suspend any and all activity from his accounts until he would turn up at a later unspecified date to deal with all his financial accounts personally. Also the goblins were to ensure a new key was made as he did not possess his old one.
Harry had sat down to tell Hedwig his plans, whilst Alan shook his head in disbelief in the background. Hedwig had nodded and nipped his fingers before setting off to Gringotts. Harry got the feeling it would be some time before he saw her again.
A second letter had to be sent via muggle post to Hermione, ensuring she was aware that he had voluntarily quit living with the Dursleys and would be out of touch whilst he was in training. Harry and Alan decided it would be best for him not to tell her what type of training he was undergoing.
‘With any luck, she’ll think Dumbledore is behind it, and he won’t want to break his illusion that he knows everything by admitting he isn’t.’ Harry said optimistically to Alan as he stuck the stamp to the envelope. ‘And a P.O. Box for all my mail to go in the meantime.’
‘Plus, you’ve included letters for your friend Ron and his family and Remus with hers so she can pass them all on – instead of you worrying about any of your post being intercepted by anyone else.’
‘Death Eaters.’ Stated Harry on agreement.
‘Dumbledore.’ Countered Alan.
***
Harry smirked as he remembered exactly how Alan felt about Dumbledore. ‘No love lost there.’
Alan hadn’t even met Dumbledore, but in his words, ‘Anyone who is thick enough to leave a kid to grow up with that family and not check on you even once, deserves all the contempt I can give him. Not counting how you grew up not knowing anything about the world your parents lived in. Or how you seem to have to deal with all the mistakes he’s made over the years… Kid, if he was the headmaster of a non magical school, he wouldn’t be fired – he’d be shot.’
***
And then there was basic training itself. Of course, he had not found basic training particularly easy. At first following orders had seemed almost impossible with his current state of distrust regarding authority figures he had encountered throughout his life so far. Fortunately, he’d also realised pretty quickly that if he didn’t wise up then he would, in the words of one of his trainer’s ‘be out on his ear before you can blink’.
He had discovered that he was actually good at most tasks he had been given during training. The only problem he had encountered was working out exactly what he wanted to do as a role within the R.A.F. He was half-heartedly looking at a list of options open to him as he sat on his bed in his quarters, whilst he pondered what choices to make.
My lack of Muggle school knowledge isn’t really helping. He noted ruefully as he looked at the list of possibilities. I bet Hermione would know what I need to do to be qualified for each job. He sighed and wondered for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing. I couldn’t stay there anymore though. He reasoned with himself. Not with knowing about the prophecy and Dumbledore not helping me train to face Voldemort. He shook his head as he remembered the scene in Dumbledore’s office, gazing out of the window as his memories played in his mind’s eye.
If he had told me why I needed to learn Occulmency from Snape I would have tried harder. Didn’t he realise his whole avoidance of me wasn’t exactly building trust between the two of us? He paused for a moment as realisation sunk in. It seems like the longer I’m away from them all – the more I question stuff. I mean, its not like Muggles are helpless. Why the heck don’t they just tell the Muggles that Voldemort is a terrorist and get a hand in defeating him? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t live if the R.A.F. accidentally dropped a bomb on his headquarters or something!
He looked down at the list again and sighed. I wonder if there’s a phone around here so I can ask Alan about this stuff?
***
‘So what do you like?’ Came the voice down the crackly telephone line.
‘Erm, flying. And fixing things.’
‘Right, well you don’t have the qualifications yet. But now that we both know what you want to be doing, we can get that fixed in no time.’
And Harry found himself enrolling in several courses designed to give him the qualifications he needed.
***
His mind came back to the present. Voldemort’s death had just been the beginning. The strike team of three had forged a tight bond, leading him to Atlantis.
He had just begun to relax on his bed when his door chimed before opening.
‘Hey there stick-boy.’
***
Extra notes: P.O. Box can be used to deliver mail to a specific Royal Mail delivery office instead of an address.
I am well aware that the legal age for drinking alcohol in the UK is eighteen (unless its wine with a meal with your guardian – then its sixteen I believe). I also remember drinking alcohol in a pub at the age of fourteen - so before anyone asks – yep he’s underage and no one stopped him. Thank you.
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