In six years, Harry's machines had harvested all of the most significant mineral deposits on Klendagon's moon. He had then began cracking open smaller mineral-rich planets, and harvesting entire asteroid belts. It was an astounding amount of material to process. Still, Harry had used all the material from Klendagon's moon in two years time. Scrapping most of the plan to hide fleets inside the moon, Harry had used the vast majority of material to personally create around forty shipyards, which were just now coming online. In addition, he built, bought, or stole much more mining equipment. His shipyards pumped out mining frigates and shuttles, as well as an assortment of mining cruisers, and a small number of Dreadnaughts tooled for mining vast areas at once. The rest of the fleets, the minority, were military ships.
One year ago, Harry had begun the construction of a super-dreadnought, a ten-kilometer monstrosity armed with twelve massive twenty-kilometer Magnetohydrodynamic weapons. (Undetectable expansion charms were absolutely required for their construction.) He already had around one hundred and ninety mining frigates, fifty mineral-gathering cruisers, thirty destroyers tooled up to be shipyards, which created and repaired smaller ships, as well as twenty Dreadnaughts, fifteen of which were built solely as combination shipyards and mining expeditions. They were designed to be sent to mine out vast sections of solar systems, using massive guns to crack open asteroids and smaller moons, then transform the resources gathered into smaller ships; cruisers, frigates, and shuttles. The other five dreadnaughts were purely military. Their vast expanses of hull bristled with guns.
Harry's research had continued fruitfully. He had recently managed to create a Philosopher's stone pure enough to create Elixir of life. While the same stone couldn't also refine lead into gold, Harry was still amazed that he had succeeded.
Over the last ten years, Harry had mastered almost the entire arsenal available to biotic soldiers, and had managed to automate the process of powering up runes and enchantments in his shipyards. He merely had to put a massive amount of power into a ward stone that he carried with him, which would then transfer the energy across the galaxy to ward stones at each one of his shipyards. From there, the ward stone charged the runes and spells on the ships as they were assembled. This process had greatly improved the rate of ship production almost from the moment it had been put into action, about a year into Harry's fleet production plan.
Due to this innovation, Harry could no longer only produce ships as fast as he could personally engrave and power their enchantments. As long as his magic could keep up, his ship construction would continue, even if he was on the opposite end of the galaxy.
Only days ago had Harry finished the first super-capital ship. It was time to test it out.
…..
General Williams was tired. His men were tired. The civilians they were supposed be protecting were tired. And now, Williams was in a quandary. The turian general had just threatened to bomb the colony's civilian population centers. That was what they had been fighting to defend, and now they faced a choice. If they fought, they would lose the civilian population, and if they surrendered, they would save the civilian population, but lose the ability to fight.
With resignation, General Williams spoke to his strategic advisors.
"Fight to the last man!" cried one man.
"The collateral damage would be too high," another argued.
"We should try to evacuate the population centers first!" still another advisor cautioned. Williams simply shook his head.
"We can't fight them in the sky, and we can't fight groundside for fear of orbital bombardment. Simply put, we must surrender, and try for the best terms we can."
There was dead silence. Then, in an uproar, his advisors clamored,
"We can't-we'll never- the surest way to destruction is to surrender!"
Williams sighed. He opened the neutral channel between himself and the turian general. Regret slowed his hand as he picked up the microphone. Williams brought it to his face, and spoke softly.
"I am General Williams, of the Systems Alliance. I would like to discuss-" then a voice interrupted. To Williams' confusion, the voice was brash, staticky, triumphant, and above all, human.
"You weren't about to surrender, were you, Williams? Not when I'm about to get them running?".
Williams's advisors and analysts looked at the console, stumped.
"You- what? To whom am I speaking?" Williams sputtered. "How did you get on this channel?"
"I'm bringing my fleet to bear." Replied the voice over the radio. "You can call me Harry. And anyone with an omni-tool can hear this channel. Hell, probably the entire turian force here is listening in. I-"
A rumbling low voice that sent a chill down Williams's spine cut him off. That was the voice of the turian general occupying the sector.
"I don't know who you are, human. But know this: there are no fleets in orbit other than mine. I seem to have just gotten some reinforcements, as well. Whatever you do, you are still going to lose. Now let the good general surrender, please."
The human's voice responded amicably.
"He may surrender if he wishes. But me and my Dreadnaughts may wish otherwise. I suggest that you surrender, turian." It was at that moment that one of Williams's analysts whispered something, with an ashen, horror-struck expression.
"One kilometer?" Williams looked at him questioningly. The analyst stuttered. "The turians have received reinforcements. One of the ships grouping up with the turian battlegroup is at least one kilometer long. There are ten others at least two-hundred meters."
Williams felt like he had been punched in the gut. Nothing the systems Alliance could muster was above five hundred meters. And they couldn't fight against eleven more ships. Regretfully, Williams walked back to the communications console. He picked up the microphone, ready to surrender, only to hear through the 'secure' channel,
"What? That's it? Just one? You have thirty-six more, just doing nothing on patrols. Alright. You get one more chance to surrender, turian, unless you want to be responsible for the fastest defeat in your species's history."
There was a breathtaking silence, and then the turian general said, in a confused tone, "Are you all mad? Must you fight to the last?"
The human voice spoke again. "I guess that's a no. Well, maybe you'll learn something." then, faintly, "Uncloak. Fire all guns. One volley." then the audio cut.
Williams heard the command, and his eyes widened. Cloaking had been a fictional technology which made constant appearances in movies and games, but never had he expected to see it in action. A second passed. Williams began to doubt the voice over the radio. Cloaking technology was decades away, if possible at all. It was impossible.
Then his strategic analysts started staring at something on their screens. One of them beckoned to Williams, without looking away.
"I'm getting some strange readings here." A confused analyst stuttered. "My sensors are going haywire."
As Williams approached, he realised that the analysts were watching a patched together live feed of the turian fleet. Then, as one they leaned forwards, as something massive appeared on screen. Williams walked forwards, listening to the conversation.
"-Has to be at least ten kilometers."
"That's impossible."
"What about the other ships? There are five others, each at least two kilometers."
"We've been seeing a lot of impossible things lately, gentlemen." Williams stated hopefully. "Now what exactly seems impossible? I would enjoy being kept in the loop."
Williams looked at the screen. One massive ship had appeared on scanners, easily outclassing every other ship on the scan. It registered as just over ten kilometers. Five others had also appeared, arrayed around the largest ship. Each of them were at least two kilometers.
In rapid succession, the ten-kilometer ship fired twelve blasts of glowing blue energy, each one eviscerating another turian ship. However, all eyes were on the twelfth and final shot, which hit the turian dreadnought head-on. The blast, fired at impossibly high velocities, was stopped for a breathless tenth of a second by the ship's shields, before it tore through them as if they didn't exist. The shot impacted the turian dreadnought's nose, force peeling bulkheads, and coring the ship. Then, with a massive burst of light, the shot hit the ship's central reactor cluster, and all of the sensors General Williams had access to whited out with static as the core went critical. Slowly the picture came back, and transmissions were restored. The unknown human's voice came over the channel, "That's why I told you not to surrender, Williams. Now I'm getting out of here."
"Excuse me?" Williams said, wondering whether he had heard the man right. "Why would you need to leave? You've just saved the colony of Shanxi. You're a hero."
"I know I saved the colony of Shanxi." The voice said. "However, if I landed on Earth, I'd never get any peace. Everyone and their commanding officer would be chasing me and my tech from one end of the galaxy to another. I bet as soon as I landed, my shuttle and everything on my person would be confiscated in the name of 'Galactic Security.' Besides, I don't trust the rest of humanity not to declare war on everyone and everything the moment they get superior weaponry."
"But surely you could keep other alien races from attacking humanity?" Williams queried. The voice replied, more quietly, but with a surety that left no room for doubt:
"When humanity comes under attack, I will be there. I can't be your military, but my ships and I will always appear in any major conflicts humanity gets into. You can count on that. We can talk more later, when we're not on an omni-tool accessible channel. This conversation is already public. I'm almost certain that most of the turian forces here have been listening in on the entire thing." Harry said.
Williams sat back in his seat, exhilarated. He had news for Alliance intelligence.
….
Harry's mind was in turmoil. He had traveled back home to the Sol system, while his ship remained cloaked. He had expected things to have remained at least somewhat similar, but he had been pleasantly surprised to find that was not the case. There were many changes from the solar system Harry remembered.
The Charon relay was one example of this. Seers and centaurs the world over had always been confused by the stellar body, as it had no significance in any branch of divination. The abnormality was one of a rare few glowing objects in the sky that had no relevance to any known magics.
The Relay, however, was the least of the surprises. Mars was green, and covered with farms, cities, and life. Humanity was thriving. Harry had no idea how that could have happened.
Harry launched himself out of the main airlock of his ship as he passed Ceres: The Nyx would land on the dwarf planet's surface and hide until Harry needed it. Harry's trajectory brought him to Earth within the next few hours.
Harry was very grateful to have flame-freezing charms as he used the Earth's atmosphere to slow himself down to a (somewhat) reasonable speed. Admittedly, since the flame-freezing charm caused a tickling sensation proportional to the heat the caster would have experienced, Harry felt as if his entire body had been beaten black and blue. At least he could fix his injuries quickly with some healing charms.
Harry was able to guide himself towards Britain with some creative application of wandless flight, and, once he slowed to terminal velocity, with a broom. Mindful of the consequences of interfering with the Statutes of Secrecy, he remained under Death's cloak for the entirety of his journey.
However, as he approached the outskirts of London, Harry could hardly miss the spires of steel and glass in the distance. Vast skyscrapers towered over the surrounding hills and valleys. Harry's mind whirled. Things had most certainly changed.
As Harry approached London, he noticed the aircars. Apparently flying cars were popular both on earth and in the greater galaxy; Vehicles featuring eerily similar designs graced every planet in Citadel Space. However, Harry was stunned by the sheer number of aircars. This was London's rush hour, and the skies were abuzz with aircraft.
Harry sped up as he reached central London, fast turns around futuristic buildings showing his apprehension. Harry slowed almost to a stop as he blasted around a corner and found himself staring at the same pub he so fondly remembered. The sign, 'The Leaky Cauldron' was the same, although much worse for wear, and there was a soft glowing light coming from the windows.
Harry landed, removed his cloak, and stepped quickly up to the door. With a decisive movement, Harry thrust it open, revealing a peaceful scene.
A few couples chatted as a young man served food and drinks. Harry caught a glimpse of Diagon Alley as a very old woman with a tall pointed hat and bushy brown hair walked through the brick passageway.
Harry smiled. Gleefully, he walked to the bar in search of a newspaper and a menu.
"Hello. I'm looking for a newspaper, if you've got one?" He questioned. I've been out of the loop for a while."
The proprietor, a middle-aged man bearing a striking resemblance to Neville Longbottom, spoke up, cheerfully passing Harry a copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Good evening! I don't believe I've seen you before. I'm Harold Longbottom, proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron. What can I get for you today?" The older man said, in a voice that suggested that all was right in the world.
"My name is Harry. I haven't really been around here for a long time, so you'd probably have forgotten me." said Harry, suddenly realizing that giving his name freely may not be the most intelligent maneuvers. "I'd like a meal; do you happen to have a menu I could look at?"
"I certainly do! I'd be a poor bartender without one!" the man joked. After a few seconds browsing through the menu, Harry picked his meal.
"I'd like a shepherd's pie, along with pumpkin juice and treacle tart, please?" he requested, while pulling out a few silver sickles.
The old woman who had just exited the Alley into the pub spun around. She stared for a few seconds, then with a whisper that carried across the room, she spoke,
"Harry?"
The object of the woman's attention turned, and looked at her with confusion, until an expression of recognition shot across his face.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, uncertain.
"Harry! It's been so long since I last saw you! How are you? How have you been? Where were you?" the elderly witch asked, excitement shining through every facet of her features.
"Well, as you guys know, I may have stepped through the Veil of Death." Harry said, with a wince.
"Yes, we knew. Daphne told us where you had gone around two thousand seventy. She later told a select few of us about your message when the Ministry started going into hysterics after she landed a spacecraft in Diagon Alley. Her companies basically shaped the expansion if the magical and muggle worlds, from Earth, all the way out to the other colonized planets in the Systems Alliance. In fact, you may be the only magical unaware of this, but we have our own planet now."
"What?" Harry was certain he hadn't heard correctly.
"We have a planet that is populated purely by magicals. Somehow the Department of mysteries managed to terraform Mars, and then do the same to Proxima B. Daphne then built a small fleet of spaceships using your Element Zero tech, and sent them out to Proxima Centauri with a few Vanishing Cabinets. Then Daphne, myself, and the Minister at the time spoke to a coalition of muggle governments, and got them to agree to stay away from Proxima B. It was truly a sight to see: lots of blustery old men getting out-blustered by Daphne, the CEO of one of the largest companies in the world, The Minister, myself, and some of the brightest minds in the particle physics fields." Hermione reminisced, a wistful smile threatening to snap her face in two.
"That's incredible! What else happened while I was gone?" Harry asked, eagerly awaiting more information.
"Well, That covers most of the important bits. Do you know how most of the countries in the world joined together, and created the Systems Alliance? Well, the Magical World did something similar. The International Coalition of Warlocks was abolished, and now we have the Interplanetary Council of Magical Beings. It's wonderful! We managed to get an equal rights movement for magical creatures going in the two-thousand-eighties, and it was astoundingly successful." Hermione gushed. "By the way, where have you been for one hundred fifty years?" the old woman added playfully.
"I- well, when I went through the Veil, I found myself on a civilized planet, just in time to watch it get invaded by the Reapers. Daphne must have told you about them. I managed to kill one, and steal a lot of its memories and blueprints for weapons and such, but the backlash had me in a coma for almost thirty-seven million years. I woke up, actually, around eleven or twelve years ago, and figured out that there's a galactic society of alien species who rely on mass effect technology. I only learned how to get back to Earth when I received some information that led me to believe that Humanity was under attack." Harry looked down at his newspaper. The headline read, "Shanxi Colony Under Attack!". Harry smiled, held up the paper, and stated calmly,
"I stopped this. The next newspaper will likely have some pretty unbelievable things in it. I suggest you believe them. Now I've finished my meal, and I need to go see Daphne." Harry spoke. Quickly, Hermione blurted,
"Harry, Daphne passed away sixteen years ago." Dumbstruck, Harry choked on his food.
"What?"
"Harry, everyone you know is gone. That's a bit blunt, I admit, but it's the truth. Our generation is gone. Remember, there were less than forty students in our age group at Hogwarts. It hasn't gotten any better. One by one, they all disappeared, died, or moved to the muggle world."
"What happened to Daphne?" Harry questioned, eyes wide.
"She died saving hundreds of magicals when a pure-blood supremacist tried to nuke the International Council of Magical Beings. She was the leader of the whole thing; the Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, head honcho. So when somebody pulled a nuke out of a wizard's tent and set it on a very short timer in the middle of her meeting, she acted. She saved some of the most important beings in existence that day, when she grabbed that bomb and apparated straight up twenty or thirty miles. However, we were in Armstrong City, on the moon. She died a day later in Saint Mungo's after writing a will and casting a few spells."
"That can't be possible- Damn it all to hell!" Harry hissed.
Disengaging from the conversation, Harry stormed out of the Leaky Cauldron, and apparated to his cottage on Avalon, noticing that the gardens and surrounding landscape were overrun with weeds. Worry festered in his gut.
Harry broke into a run, desperately hoping that Daphne had somehow survived. However, his hope was shattered when he walked onto his back porch. There was something new there. A cobblestone path led down to the beach, where the waves washed against the sand.
However, the cobblestone ended at a magnificent stone pavilion by the edge of the sea, with two statues facing the open ocean. One of the stone figures held an arm outstretched, pointing out into the deeps.
As Harry approached, he realized who they were. One statue was of Daphne, and the other was of himself. He stopped, frozen. Then, with heavy heart and slow footsteps, Harry walked up the steps of the pavilion, and stood next to the pedestal upon which the statues were placed. There was a large stone tablet on the base of the pedestal, into which words were carved. The grave marker read:
Daphne Greengrass
February 1rst, 1980 - April 9th, 2141
Greetings.
If you're reading this, you're probably Harry Potter. Either that, or the wards have collapsed and the formerly British Government is desperately trying to figure out how an entire island off their coast escaped their notice for hundreds of years.
However, if the wards have not collapsed, and you are Harry Potter, I hope you like the statues. I charmed the pavilion to appear upon the moment of my death.
I have a lot to say to you. Since I've clearly died, this will be in writing.
First: I'm sorry. I willingly gave up my life to save the ICMB, and I don't regret that. I would do it again if necessary. My only regret is that I won't be able to see you again.
Second: There is a spell that consumes a Philosopher's stone, called the Terraforming Spell.
The first instance of its use is why Mars is habitable.
The Flamel-made Stones were the only ones that were pure enough to function with the spell.
You left me the one you made in conjunction with the Flamels, and after they disappeared, they willed theirs to the Department of Mysteries.
The department used it to terraform Mars; I made myself a few centuries of elixir, and then gave them our Stone so they could terraform Proxima B.
If not for my self-sacrifice, I would have wound up dying from old age eventually.
This was my decision to make; don't blame yourself. I love you, Harry.
P.S.
I left you everything. All our vaults in Gringotts, all our properties, all our stocks belong solely to you now. You can access an extradimensional pocket where I stored passwords and information for our Muggle investments, as well as my small ocean of Elixir of Life, if you place your hands flat upon this tablet.
Now go get drunk and save the universe. (Yes, I know that's how you'll mourn for me; don't even try to deny it.)
-Daphne Greengrass
Harry heeded her advice. Sitting down on a bench between the statues and the sea, Harry pulled out the Ryncol he had gotten from Aethyta's bar. Over the course of the next few hours, he finished every single bottle. Then he went into the city and began fabricating records. Birth certificates, college degrees, everything. It wouldn't hold up to heavy scrutiny, but it was enough.
…..
Harry went back to Diagon Alley, and sent Hermione a letter. He was quite surprised to find that she had been the Headmistress of Hogwarts for almost seventy years. After touring the old castle again, and doing some research in the school library, Harry said farewell, and went to visit Proxima B, or, as the Magical governments called it, Haven. The planet was a shining example of all the best parts of Magical society. Vast spires towered into the clouds, and green expanses of self-farming land supported a booming population. Truly, the place was a magical miracle. It was an incredible change from the incompetent impotent ministry of Harry's early life.
He explored the planet, sticking to the extreme edges of society. He had no wish to be famous again, even though the magical community seemed to be much more forgiving. In Harry's experience, fame led to notoriety, which led to infamy.
Harry spent two years getting up to speed with any and all magical advances made in the last fifteen decades. There was a surprising amount for him to learn, and he took to the new material with ease.
On Hermione's advice, Harry had looked into the history of the muggle and magical worlds in his absence. Slowly, he was enthralled by the new societies, new politics, and new governments exhibited in the muggle world. After reassuring himself that the magical world was not in peril or under attack, Harry disappeared. He sent Hermione a note that explained his absence, as well as told her how to contact him in an emergency.
Then, Harry enlisted in the Alliance military. He learned to shoot (better) , he learned the benefits of armor (again), and he learned that people become very confused when you can bend steel with your bare hands. They then tend to take lots of blood samples and run lots of tests, which results in having to 'Obliviate' lots of people. It also got Harry some highly useful intel, as he gathered useful knowledge while playing around in the minds of others.
Joining the military was not all sparkles, roses, and rainbows. In fact, Harry had been sent through a whole host of different training facilities to try to find his aptitudes.
Flight school was a bust; they thought he was far too reckless, even though he smashed the records in every single category except 'safety'. Apparently if he had been flying a troop transport, every man aboard would have been "Moderately to severely injured." However, Harry had blasted through the training course with such speed that the previous record was a full half-minute behind his.
Harry's infiltration training was stopped after a month, as apparently Harry lacked 'subtlety' and endangered himself far too frequently for the standard Alliance infiltrator. His training mission was an unqualified success, but Harry's cover was blown, and the firefight he had caused had resulted in hundreds of thousands of credits worth of property damage.
His biotics were incredibly strong, but when he 'accidentally' killed the sadistic turian mercenary teaching the program, he very nearly burned that bridge. He completed biotics training in a whirl of blue power, stunning the new asari instructor with both his endurance, skill, reach, and flexibility.
Eventually, Harry was simply placed into the Alliance Marines, as a standard biotic soldier.
…...
A year later, Harry had completed basic training, and was three months into a quiet six-month deployment on Mindoir when disaster struck.
….
Harry lived for the camaraderie and friendships formed in his first few months of military enlistment. He had been conflicted before joining up, as his current mission to destroy the reapers was extremely vague. Harry had no idea whether the reapers would come in one year, or in ten thousand years. However, Harry certainly could help out wherever possible. To that end, he had requested a billet on one of the colonies most at-risk of slaver attacks.
So far, everything had been quiet. Harry kept up his physical training, kept his marksmanship at record-setting levels, and practiced magic for most of the day. The remaining few hours were spent aiding the citizenry of Mindoir. Harry was at peace, until one of Alliance Command's worst fears came calling.
….
Harry woke up to the sound of explosions. He and his twelve man squad were up and armed before they were fully awake. They ran for the briefing room, grabbing weaponry on the way.
Five minutes later, the group had figured out what was going on: slavers were attacking the colony. Harry immediately sent somebody to activate the emergency distress beacon. He then sent the Nyx, which he had hidden on-planet, to disable any batarian ships in orbit.
Harry knew instantly that he could no longer downplay his biotic abilities. He would do anything he could to save the people of Mindoir. It was with this in mind that he walked out of the briefing, biotics flaring.
Harry scowled, frustrated. If he used any visible magic, he would never be able to return to Alliance space under his real name. Just like with his technology, if the Alliance figured out what he was truly capable of, they would never let him rest.
Harry's scowl deepened. It would also take too long to infuse his biotics with his magic. He would have to do with standard biotic attacks.
A hostile shuttle touched down in the nearby square, and batarians poured out. Screams and the sound of stun guns rent the air. The crowds in the square fled, but too many fell to the non-lethal weapons. After barely two minutes, unconscious bodies littered the square. Harry scowled, as batarians began to load bodies into the shuttle. That would not happen on his watch. Harry walked over to the shuttle, clad in Death's Cloak. He stepped into the cockpit, and carefully put a bullet in the batarian pilot's head. He then paced back down the ramp, and with careful, precise fire, took out each and every batarian he could see. He pulled off his cloak and sprinted off at incredible speed, just as the rest of his team ran out of the briefing room.
…...
Sixteen-year-old Jane Shepard was in the city for the weekend. She had been exposed to a significant amount of eezo again, recently, and was just recovering now. She was still weak from Eezo-contamination treatments, and required a wheelchair.
She was traveling with her parents to a coffee joint in the city's main square, when she heard the whine of engines. She looked up, and saw around five shuttles descending on the small colony. She asked her parents about them, but their responses only raised more questions.
She watched, curious, as one of the strange shuttles landed in the square. Then the doors opened, and she got a glance of grey skin and red armor. Then she heard gunfire, and was knocked out of her wheelchair by panicking crowds. She heard stun guns, then watched as the crowd fell around her. She saw the batarians begin gathering up the unconscious bodies, and white-hot anger flared into existence, buried in her chest. A second later, she realized that she was glowing blue with biotic power. Her brow furrowed.
When the batarians got within range, she tensed, and tried to launch a biotic attack, like she had seen on the extranet. She tried, but all she could do was make a light show, attracting the batarian's attention. Angry, she tried again, only to feel a crushing weight of exhaustion pressing in, erupting black spots around the edges of her vision. As the batarians reached her, she tried again, barely avoiding unconsciousness. With a loud 'Whoosh!' a blue sphere launched from her hand, and melted the batarian that it collided with. Jane blacked out for a few seconds.
She regained consciousness seconds later, only to realize that one of the batarians was carrying her over his shoulder with a bastardized fireman's carry. He started to walk towards the shuttle, until it exploded.
A man, wreathed in biotic energy, ran out of the explosion, calmly carrying two unconscious civilians. He placed them lightly on the ground, then blurred into action, with a biotic charge. Biotic projectiles flew, dismembering a few batarians. A few gunshots rang out. The batarian holding Jane choked and stumbled, with a massive hole through his chest.
A pair of arms helped Jane to the ground, cautiously lowering her. She looked up into the face of an alarmed green-eyed Alliance Marine before falling into unconsciousness.
Harry had just taken out the shuttle and its crew before attending to the fallen civilians. He watched one of the batarian he had shot stumble,and fall forward, dropping a young woman Harry had seen around the colony. Harry quickly charged forwards and steadied her. Harry then lowered the girl to the ground cautiously. He looked back at her, and said, enunciating clearly,
"You're safe, do you hear me?" immediately before she faded into unconsciousness.
Harry sprinted to the next site that the batarians had landed at a fast as he could. He arrived barely two minutes later, puffing slightly as he ran down the country road towards the shuttle. As he approached, he saw a batarian loading colonists into the vehicle. So, as soon as he reached the vehicle, Harry tore the side door of the craft off of its hinges.
Looking through the hole he had created, Harry saw unconscious colonists laying in piles on the floor of the vehicle. Angrily, Harry ran through the area to the pilot's chair, and disabled the vehicle with a turquoise shockwave that pulverized the entire pilot's console, and turned the pilot into a splatter.
Harry stepped out of the ruined cockpit, and looked around. This property was a farm, with a large building to house employees off to the side of the road. That must have been what this group of batarians were after. Harry looked around for the batarian raiders that had arrived on the shuttle he had just destroyed. Some were watching in anger, as he destroyed their means of escape. Others were off stunning more colonists at the entrance to the building. Harry raised his arms, and with a yell, unleashed multiple biotic projectiles. Many nearby batarian slavers were hit with a Pull, and were lifted into the air. Then, with a clenched fist, Harry fired a large number of Throw projectiles, detonating a large number of biotic fields at once. Grey body parts rained from the sky, as precise gunfire blasted the remaining slavers.
Harry grabbed a civilian skycar, cast an unlocking charm on the door, and quickly overrode the safety speed limiter. He took off, blasting into the sky towards the third landing site, only to see the batarian shuttle starting to take off. Seconds later, a massive Warp was melting through their engines. The shuttle crashed back down five feet to the landing pad with a loud bang. Harry placed the shuttle in a hovering pattern and opened the driver side door. He then pulled out his sniper rifle, and carefully annihilated every batarian at the third site.
Harry's stolen aircar skidded to a halt at the fourth site, where the batarian shuttle was experiencing engine trouble. Their engines were smoking, and they couldn't take off. The fifth and final shuttle touched down nearby, just as Harry finished eviscerating the last batarian raider with his omni-blade. As he walked to the door of the remaining fifth shuttle the airlock hissed open, and Harry flared his biotics.
He heard a human voice yell, "Friendly!", and there, walking down the ramp of the shuttle, was the rest of his team. One of them spoke.
"Hey, boss. While you were out doing your Olympic sprinter impression, we took the first site's shuttle to the fifth landing site, took care of the four-eyes, and flew here in order to save these guys. Looks like you got here first, though." To that, Harry replied, exhausted,
"We saved them all, right?" Vindictive snickers and smiles crossed the faces of his squad. One Marine responded, with a grin,
"No. You saved them all. We just cleaned up."
Harry walked through the central area of the shuttle, and collapsed into the pilot's seat. He fiddled with the ship's external loudspeakers a little, then flew the shuttle up into the sky, over the main settlement, as the stunned colonists began to wake from their stun-weapon-induced unconsciousness. He activated the loudspeakers at maximum volume, and spoke, communicating to the colony,
"Colonists of Mindoir! You are safe. The attempted slave raid by batarian pirates has been repelled. All hostile forces have been defeated, and destroyed. Alliance forces have destroyed their ship in orbit. This attack has been foiled. We will now be required to deal with the aftermath from this event. While it may be difficult, I suggest that you resume your daily routines, and please, remember. There is no fault on human heads, for this. It is almost impossible to predict where and when slavers may strike. Although we know now that they will think twice before attacking Mindoir!" Harry put own the microphone, ending his speech. He landed the shuttle, opened the hatch, walked into the barracks, and went to sleep.
Twelve hours later, Harry woke up. It was early in the morning. Soft light streamed through a skylight. He went to his kitchen, made himself breakfast, and walked to the door of the barracks, ready to start his morning run. He opened the door to cameras.
"Hi, I'm from Alliance Newsnet. We-"
"Citadel Tribune! How did you-"
"We're with the Terran Gazette. Do you have any comments for-"
"Harry Potter! I'm a reporter with Badass Weekly! Footage of your-"
Reporters. Reporters were everywhere. Harry closed his door. Alright. To the briefing room, then.
Seven hours later, after answering a slew of questions, mainly variations of the old, "How the HELL did you do that?", Harry was awarded a 'Star of Terra,' an award given in recognition of 'distinguished service above and beyond the call of duty.'
Harry was only slightly worried when a email from Hermione popped up on his omni-tool.
Dear Harry,
I'm so proud of you! News of your award even made it to Haven! Most people think it's just a coincidence that your name is popping up again, but you and I certainly know better, don't we? Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you're all right. I'm hoping that the Alliance is treating you well.
In future, you may want to tone down your power, as I'm hearing some rumors about some less-than-legal organizations trying to recruit you. And, as an additional piece of advice, I suggest that you refuse any and all interviews. If you want to keep yourself anonymous, you'll have to keep yourself out of the media spotlight.
Write back soon!
-Hermione
A month later, he was reassigned to a civilian contracting company - Harper Biotics- that specialized in biotic instruction. His orders were to teach his students all he knew about biotics. However, Harry couldn't help but be slightly wary of his civilian colleagues. It certainly did not help that they seemed to be intent on getting him to join their company. Harry received a few lucrative job offers from the organization- They were willing to pay him an astonishing amount of money if Harry were to leave the Alliance Military and sign onto their business as a 'contractor'. He became even more suspicious when the Alliance had to go through a surprising amount of red tape in order to transfer him away from the facility to his next assignment, two months later.
Apparently there had been a mix-up, which caused Harry to be erroneously assigned to work with the civilian organization. However, according to Harry's intel via the Shadow Broker's networks, it quickly became apparent that 'Harper Biotics' was actually a front for a human extremist organisation known as Cerberus. Harry absently forwarded a few small tidbits of information to the 'anonymous tip' e-mail for Alliance Intelligence.
Harry's next assignment was, once again, biotics instruction. However, this time he was teaching for the Interplanetary Combatives Program. Members of the program were chosen via showing exemplary skill in combat, and receiving commendations from ICT program graduates. Most were biotics, and needed to be taught an assortment of extremely advanced methods and maneuvers to best take advantage of their power.
Harry was able to teach them very thoroughly- He had always enjoyed teaching others. His superiors were just happy that there was somebody able to teach the program without being obligated to inform other races' intelligence agencies of the program's goings-on, as would be the case if the Alliance had to hire asari or turian biotics instructors. Due to that sentiment, they conveniently turned a blind eye to Harry's own biotics prowess.
However, there were other complications in Harry's status. Due to his unique situation as an instructor for the Interplanetary Combatives Training Program without being a graduate of said program, Harry was frequently required to be off the base, mostly during training missions. As he had not qualified for N-school, having only been engaged in what was classified as "light urban combat" and a "moderate skirmish," Harry was required to be away from the Villa for three weeks a month.
During those three weeks, he was assigned duty at another nearby facility. However, with the help of a simulacrum, a communication mirror, an alert ward, a light notice-me-not spell, and a few illusions, Harry basically had three weeks of vacation per month.
Strangely, his simulacrum went missing on a monthly basis. However, Harry had added a portkey to the creation, causing it to return to its post whenever it was taken too far away. Harry was briefly confused by this, until he realized that some organization was trying to kidnap him.
As he had no reason to meet with said organization, or speak with them in any way, Harry left the situation alone. It was perfectly acceptable for him- his simulacrum would be kidnapped by a strange shuttle with an orange-and-white color scheme, and would promptly portkey back to its post a few seconds later. The way Harry saw it, there was certainly no harm in irritating a few operatives.
During the rest of his three-week periods of free time, Harry traveled across the galaxy, taking jobs and handing in bounties under the guise of Mortis Solutions. He also tended to his massive information network almost obsessively, making the galaxy a better place, one being at a time.
He sent his mining and resource gathering ships off to collect minerals and valuables from far-off systems. His cruisers and destroyers were cracking asteroids and pulling resources out of their insides, then bringing them to larger shipyards. After his fifteen resource-collection and Dreadnaughts had mined more than ten times their own combined mass in metals, Harry's shipyards began assembling half of all available resources into combat ships, and the other half into resource-collection-ships.
Massive flights of thousands of expanded shuttles filled with enhanced mining equipment landed on distant moons and planets, and ripped metals and resources from their crusts, mining thousands of times their weight in metals.
In the meantime, Harry had requested a year of leave. He planned to 'head to Elysium in anonymity, and live in solitude for a year.' or at least that was what he told the Alliance.
He did anything but. He dropped his simulacrum off on Elysium, bought an apartment, and went traveling. In order to bolster his mercenary outfit's reputation, Harry accepted some missions that would ordinarily considered 'suicide'. He turned in around twenty bounties, on numerous pirates, slavers, and smugglers.
Mercenary organizations in the Terminus systems began to experience some strange phenomena. Slaves disappeared. Prisoners escaped from under full guard. And worst of all, illegal shipments and smuggled goods began disappearing.
…..
Harry shuddered. After a tip on red sand smuggling, Harry had found himself on Rakhana. What he had discovered both awed and angered him.
He had unearthed a massive red sand factory on the planet's surface. It was near the arctic reaches of the planet, where temperatures during the night fell to a range that could be considered 'somewhat pleasant'.
Rakhana was the over-polluted former homeworld of the Drell. The planet had been over-polluted and overpopulated to the point where a greenhouse effect had run rampant, leading to massive food shortages, unstoppable desertification, and a catastrophic population crash in 2025 CE.
The Hanar made first contact with the Drell, and began a massive evacuation of the planet. Almost four hundred thousand drell were taken to the Hanar homeworld. In exchange, an agreement was created that obligated the Drell to assist the hanar species in tasks they were physically incapable of. In many cases, Hanar diplomats are now inseparable from their Drell assistants.
The exodus from Rakhana, and Rakhana itself, became a sacred part of Drell theology. Harry knew that many drell would view narcotics factories on their former homeworld as a blasphemy, or a cardinal sin.
Harry had obliterated that factory with extreme prejudice, and then stolen any and all information he could. Said information was promptly sent to the Hanar embassy on the Citadel.
Harry immediately began to design three ships: The Pan, Persephone, and Demeter. They would each be almost twenty-five kilometers long, and would be heavily armored. However, instead of mining, or military purposes, these three ships would be used to terraform planets.
The Persphone would use what amounted to a massive magical battery and a philosopher's stone, to alchemically transmute carbon dioxide and greenhouse gases into oxygen and hydrogen. A magical intelligence that commanded the ship would adjust output in order to return the planet to its former state.
The Pan would use one of Harry's new philosopher's stones capable of producing Elixir of life in order to allow plantlife and animals to grow once more. It would also cause rain and storms that would uproot and displace the dried out, dead vegetation that littered the planet's surface.
The Demeter would seed the ground with the same plants that had once covered the planet's surface, now revitalized with the ship's new Philosopher's stone. The ship would turn the barren wastes of Rakhana into vast fertile plains covered in the grasses and trees that once rose proudly from the arid dirt.
Harry immediately began the construction process for the three ships. He predicted that they would be complete, and beginning to terraform the planet by late 2176. Harry's more optimistic predictions had the terraforming process completed in the early 2180s, thanks to the wondrous properties of Elixir of life.
Those same properties had been used to terraform Mars and Haven, also known as Proxima B, however in those cases, the Philosopher's stones had been consumed. That issue would not occur this time; since the terraforming process occurred more slowly, the Stones could 'recharge' for lack of a better word.
…..
Harry maintained his status as the Shadow Broker with fervor. Such a gold mine of information was not to be thrown away lightly. He found the information network to be an incredible boon; under the banner of his mercenary organization, Harry acted on knowledge only he had access to. Mortis Solutions quickly became the stuff of legends. Tales were told by drunken wide-eyed spacefarers of drifting derelict pirate ships venting atmosphere, filled with nothing but bloodstains, bodies, and bullet-holes. The only identifying mark remaining would invariably be the Mortis logo, the symbol of the Hallows, burned into the hull. While the symbol of the Deathly Hallows had always been an omen of death, it took on a new meaning when it graced the Nyx and Harry's armor. It was a badge: one that loudly and emphatically stated, "Don't fuck with this."
Harry's information network began to pick up some worrying clues early into Harry's year off. However, there was nothing concrete until the year was almost one third of the way over.
Harry sat, staring at a screen, fist clenched in anger. One of his informants had just sent him proof that the salarian STG were about to use a bioweapon on the Quarian fleet.
Harry was incensed, and immediately began preparations. First, Harry directed his ship towards Illium, and activated his Portkey drive. An hour later, Harry was using some of his 'pocket change' to buy billions of credits worth of disaster recovery supplies: vacuum-sealed suits, dextro-amino nutrient paste, bioplague medigel, state-of-the-art medical supplies, surgical VIs updated for Quarian biology, and two almost four-hundred-year-old decommissioned turian Dreadnaughts. Harry sent the two hulking ships to one of his shipyards, where they were gutted and retrofitted for vast hydroponics farms and living spaces. He has also added new eezo cores, new engines and shields, massive point defense batteries, and fully supplied hospitals.
Harry went back to his cockpit, and looked over the informant's message again. According to the spy, the team sent to administer the plague had just halted all outgoing messages to prevent the migrant fleet from suspecting anything. Their early plans had suggested that the team would spend almost two weeks in a communications blackout before unleashing the weapon, so Harry was reasonably certain that he had two weeks to prepare. Harry slammed his fist on the console. The most frustrating fact was that Harry couldn't take out the STG team without endangering his contact. He desperately wanted to use his point-me spell and simply blast the ship out of existence, but his informant was almost certain that the salarians were planning something much more insidious than the bioweapon. Harry was even beginning to suspect that many salarians were indoctrinated.
Almost a month later, Harry passed through the Skyllian Verge just in time to catch the tail end of a transmission from a quarian ship. Harry was ecstatic. The quarians had been extremely difficult to find. Even with his scrying spells, Harry had been hard-pressed. He could tell where they were, but Harry knew that he would get annihilated the instant he came out of portkey drive right next to the fleet. He also couldn't just fly directly into their path; the Migrant Fleet had taken advantage of countless nebulae, extra-solar dust clouds, and gravity wells to hide their ship's signatures. Simply seeing through their extremely skillful attempts to remain unnoticed could raise suspicion. It could even suggest that someone was feeding him data about their location; Admittedly Harry did have accurate information about their location, but he didn't want the quarians to know that. They took information leaks very seriously.
The Fleet had been extremely tight-lipped on their flight plans as of late, and Harry could see why. Just a few weeks ago, the Council had become increasingly harsh on systems that aided the fleet. Harry was not at all surprised when he learned that the stricter regulations placed on trading with "Suspected Criminals" had been proposed and passed mainly by the salarian councilor.
Just recently, Harry had observed some strange phenomena from the fleet. They had suddenly diverted from their previous destination: Instead of heading for the lawless expanse of the Terminus systems, They had traveled to relay leading to the closest civilized and developed system, disregarding all attempts to remain unnoticed. As they began to pass through the relay, the Fleet began to broadcast a distress signal to the entire system.
Harry heard something about 'disease' and 'quarantine' before the message cut off as the last ships in the Fleet passed through the Relay. Harry accelerated towards the relay, certain that this was the Quarian Migrant Fleet feeling the results of the salarian bioweapon. After he travelled through the relay, Harry heard the full message, repeating over again.
"This is the Quarian Migrant fleet. We are currently quarantining many ships due to an airborne disease sweeping through the fleet. All dextro-amino species are affected. We humbly request any aid you can give."
Harry steeled his nerves. He had been in plague zones before. He recalled a specific mission to halt a virulent magical plague that infected only muggles who had been exposed to magic. Most of London had been infected. It had not been pretty.
Harry instantly regretted his decision to bring the pair of refitted dreadnaughts through the relay with him. They would definitely panic the quarians, especially since Harry had travelled through the relay less than an hour after the quarians. They would be vulnerable, quickly trying to organize flight plans and formations.
Harry and his ships emerged from FTL, and were detected almost instantly. Worried and confused chatter erupted across a number of channels, before Harry broadcast on all channels, in decent but accented khelish,
"This is the Nyx. I have medical supplies, and two ships for the Migrant fleet. Where should I deliver them? I am also trained for hot zone first aid and have an airtight hardsuit. I'm also mostly fluent in Khelish, if that helps in any way."
There was a brief silence, then a calm voice spoke clearly.
"The two-" the voice hitched as it spoke the word, "Dreadnaughts, can be brought to this set of coordinates. We'd like to have an assurance that there will be no trickery involved, and will have teams scanning and studying the ships to ensure that there is nothing underhanded going on."
"That's perfectly acceptable."Harry responded. He was content with that. He wasn't expecting them to trust him instantly; Hell, the Fleet would probably have teams inspecting the pair of dreadnaughts for at least a week before they felt it would be safe to house anyone in them.
Something like two hours later, the quarian voice on the radio was a whole lot more unstable, as suspicion changed to disbelief, and then to hope, and then to happiness. However, it was clear that the quarians didn't trust him. A strange mercenary vehicle showing up with a pair of dreadnaughts in tow was extremely suspicious, and just giving the pair of dreadnaughts to the Fleet was unheard-of generosity.
Harry had been invited to board one of the Liveships, and had immediately hopped in a shuttle. He had left all of his guns except for a small sidearm onboard the Nyx; Harry didn't want to worry the quarians any more than necessary. As he approached, he slowed the shuttle to a fraction of its top speed, allowing the quarians ample time to heavily scan the vehicle. Harry could see weapons moving to track his shuttle. As he landed in an empty shuttlebay, blast doors closed, blocking his way back out into space. Harry moved towards the single airlock slowly.
Harry opened the airlock to see a large group of quarian marines with weapons aimed at him. Laser sights painted his chestpiece with a multitude of red dots. Harry slowly raised his hands into the air, and said in accented khelish,
"I don't expect you to instantly trust me. All I brought was a sidearm; My shuttle is empty. However, I brought a lot of medical supplies aboard the pair of dreadnaughts; I had them retrofitted. I'm going to broadcast their cargo manifests, weaponry, and armor statistics with my omni-tool. Feel free to watch what I'm doing." Patiently, Harry won over the quarian marines, and after a tense few hours, convinced them of his honesty. It was not long before they allowed him to begin working in the hospitals. He was assigned a pair of marines to make sure he didn't do anything suspicious, but Harry was fine with that.
Cleaning runes and charms were absurdly effective for dealing with Quarian disease. This meant that wherever Harry went, the sick Quarians around him would all slowly be rejuvenated, as Harry cast numerous wide-area cleaning and parselmagic healing charms. In fact, there was not a single Quarian fatality in the 'beyond all hope' ward for the most extreme cases while Harry worked there. Harry, and the Mortis logo, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, slowly became a symbol of hope for the sick Quarians in those wards, where they started calling him something that roughly translated to 'Stubborn Healer', after he had publicly pushed through a squad of Quarian Marines to get to some of the most ill and infirm Quarians in the fleet.
In the middle of all of this, Harry received a message. According to an informant, the Turian cruiser, the Verrikan, was en route to Thessia with a cargo of something that sounded almost identical to the Reaper artifacts destroyed at the Temple of Palaven.
Cursing his luck, Harry immediately found and contacted a mostly reliable freelance mercenary with a reputation for getting the job done. Zaeed Massani was an older human, with one poorly-applied cybernetic eye and an even-more-poorly-applied skin graft around it. He had an impressive reputation for a freelancer, and was very good at his job.
In other words, he was Harry's best shot at the operation.
So Harry gave him a signing bonus, just for accepting the contract. Included was a discretionary fund in case the freelancer needed to hire any help. The wizard then placed an astronomically high reward for the destruction of the Verrikan, with the stipulation that the ship must be crashed into an atmosphere, or destroyed in such a way that it (and it's cargo) would be completely vaporized.
Barely a week later, immediately after an especially trying operation on a near-dead quarian marine, Harry received video confirmation of the Verrikan's destruction from Zaeed.
The man had infiltrated the cruiser, and set a collision-course with the nearest star. He and some hired help had been able to hold the elevator to the engineering deck for long enough to lock the course into the ship's navigation computers, change all the passwords, and evacuate air from half the ship. His desperate escape in a damaged escape pod was a near thing, and Zaeed's helmet-camera showed the view-port completely engulfed in flames for almost thirty seconds before the pod fired its engines and escaped the doomed cruiser. The film continued for a few more minutes, showing the Verrikan's headlong acceleration into the nearest sun twenty minutes later. Venting atmosphere, the ship disappeared without a trace amidst the boiling plasma of the star. The video continued only long enough for Harry to catch a glimpse of Zaeed with a celebratory cigar and bottle of whiskey.
Thankfully, Harry could now pay full attention to the wounded quarians he was treating.
While he worked, Harry considered the disease. Somehow, the bioweapon was getting past Quarian respirators and filters. How was that possible?
A few days later, while running on caffeine and too little sleep, Harry had a thought. The standard quarian respirators may have had to whitelist some particulate matter. But what?
A few minutes later, Harry had his answer. It was staggeringly simple. The plague was transmitted by infecting Quarian particles, from their breath, which they would then breathe in again, taking the plague into their bodies. A quarian's respirator allowed particles with his own DNA through, both in and out. It was incredibly complex, and incredibly devious. Harry told the Quarians about his suspicions, and they immediately tested them. They were overjoyed when that stopped the transmission of the plague completely.
Harry then gave the admirals the data, and told them how their 'plague' was a deliberately constructed salarian bioweapon. The admirals were shocked, then confused, then angry. Harry soon left the fleet, just as the last of those in the most critical conditions began their recovery.
A week later, Harry received a strange message that contained a massive amount of information about Geth. Not even the Shadow Broker had been aware of some of the information it contained. Harry learned a lot about the geth, especially about the schism between the two factions of the geth. Harry had been unaware that there were the Geth, 'servants of the people', and the Heretics, which were Reaper slaves.
Eventually, after thoroughly perusing the data, Harry sent back, "Who are you? How did you get this information? If it's true, that could have a lot of important repercussions for the quarian people."
"We are Geth." was the reply.
"Come again?" was Harry's surprised response.
"We are Geth." The mechanical voice repeated. After a brief delay, Harry questioned,
"Could we agree to some sort of an exchange of information?" There was another delay, before the voice spoke again.
"We have reached a consensus. You may come to Rannoch, in the Tikkun System of the Perseus Veil i f you desire further exchange of information." said the voice.
Harry set a course for Rannoch immediately, cloaking the Nyx, and powering weaponry. On arrival, Harry was stunned. That was a large fleet, by the council's standards. He had seen the figures, and had understood, conceptually, that the heretics were only ten percent of the Geth. But the ninety percent was massive.
Harry broadcast a brief message, and uncloaked. A ship, labeled 'guide' slowly flew towards him, stopped, turned, and flew towards Rannoch. Harry followed it, watching the forty Geth dreadnaughts with interest. A few minutes later, Harry landed on Rannoch. He set up a chair, and waited. A minute later, a Geth platform approached him, and began the discussion with,
"Greetings, Potter, Harry."
"Ah, greetings to you as well? Why did you want to meet me? Asked Harry.
"We wish for the Creators to return." Replied the platform.
"You want your - the Quarians to return to Rannoch? For what purpose?" Harry asked cautiously.
"We are Geth."
"What do you mean?" Harry queried.
"We are Geth." The construct repeated.
"What exactly does 'Geth' mean?" Harry questioned.
"Definition: Geth."Servant of the people."" A Quarian recording played.
"Alright. I'll try to speak with the Admiralty Board. They will be scared of you. I suggest you keep your fleets hidden somewhere so that the quarians won't immediately fear betrayal. Your forty dreadnaughts would definitely provide ample cause for worry. Perhaps hide them in an asteroid belt?"
The discussion continued for hours. Only when Harry was fully convinced of the Geth's sincerity did he pilot the Nyx back to the Migrant Fleet. His information, that the Geth wished to parley, was received with shock by some, disbelief from others, and fanatical gratitude from a small minority. Harry was told,
"The Admiralty Board will have to consider this heavily. I anticipate this will take months, or even years, at the very least." by Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, a respectable admiral with a neutral opinion on the Geth. She seemed to like Harry, and even introduced him to her temporary charge, a young quarian whose parents were still recovering from the plague.
"Harry, This is Tali'Zorah. Tali, This is Harry Potter. I'm taking care of Tali for now, as her parents were some of those hit hardest by the plague. Thanks mostly to your gifts, both of her parents, along with tens of thousands of others, will survive instead of succumbing to the disease. I don't think we'll ever be able to properly thank you."
Harry was gladdened to see more evidence of how his efforts had helped the quarian people, and said so. However, Harry still had plans that needed to be put into action, and had to leave the Migrant fleet behind.
Within the month, Harry's information network began to suggest that a human named Elanos Haliat was going to try to destroy the colony of Elysium in a month's time. Harry was very worried. Elysium was not on a military footing, and did not have a very large defense fleet. They would not be ready.
So Harry's vacation took a turn. He sent a tip to the Alliance Prime Minister's personal email, obtained through his vast information network.
Harry then took the Nyx to the Vetus system, and hid it in an asteroid belt near Elysium. He took his shuttle to the nearest spaceport, and went through the lengthy customs and immigration process. A week later, after he had managed to rent a small apartment for two months, Harry began teaching. Every day, in the recreation square, the 'Guardian of Mindoir' led lectures, taught biotics, gun safety, how to aim, and how to stay in cover.
He was also teaching a few newly enlisted Marines from Mindoir, including a powerful biotic named Jane Shepard. Their first conversation was about how Harry had saved the colony of Mindoir.
They pair became fast friends, and Harry taught Jane things she could learn nowhere else: how to use a biotic charge, how to detonate biotic fields, and how to cast multiple biotic attacks at the same time.
When the batarians attacked, Harry was ready. That day was the day after Harry had taught his regular group of around twenty about heavy ordinance. So as soon as the alarm went off, Harry commanded the Nyx to engage the batarian raiders. He then handed his students rocket launchers, and told them to shoot the hostiles designated by Alliance tactical command. The city, Illyria, was the capital of Elysium, and above it was the location of the most heavily concentrated fighting. Hundreds of shuttles full of angry pirates got through the Alliance defense network, heading towards Illyria. Around one hundred and sixty-five shuttles never made it to the ground, as Harry's class on anti-vehicle ordinance turned into live-fire target practice.
