Hello all, and welcome to my newest project. First and foremost, I would just like to state for the record that this one is all Jon Harper's fault. All of it (and I can just picture him grinning as he enthusiastically agrees). He shoved the unwanted and unasked for plotbunny at me and then helped me brainstorm until I got really excited about the story and about delving back into the Harry Potter universe once more.

The Cursed Child: I have not read the book nor seen the play, and I most likely won't be reading the book (because the idea of reading a screenplay does not appeal to me in the slightest). However, I am getting relevant character information from The Harry Potter Lexicon so there might be some minor character spoilers, although this story takes place long before the events of the book.

Disclaimer: I own a computer, a coffeemaker and an imagination. I do not own anything Harry Potter or Stargate.

The Thorny, Twisted Road Never Travelled

Prologue

The sun was peeking through a thinning blanket of clouds, pockets of happy bright light streaming down onto the bustling cobblestone street. There were canopies above each shop, and multiple umbrellas in front of a collection of cafes, tea houses and ice cream parlors, each its own explosion of colour. Stalls further crowded the streets, selling everything from charmed jewelry, scarves and decorative nick knacks, to love potions and herbal remedies. While reasonably wide, the street was claustrophobicly packed with people, who were as eclectic-looking and colourful as the rest of the street. They were wearing robes. Some were even wearing tall, pointy hats.

He knew he was still on Earth – the atmospheric pressure, oxygen content and gravity were all right – but this wasn't a part of Earth he'd ever seen before. Hadn't even known it existed before. It felt and looked as alien as any of the planets he'd ever visited. In a daze, he stopped behind a gaggle of children peering into the glass display of a store that seemed to specialize in brooms, of all things.

"Quality Quidditch Supplies," Daniel read out loud. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to assume that's some sort of sport."

He turned to his companion.

Despite the breeze he could see blowing through the street, her brown ringlets didn't move. She smiled softly at him. "Yes, it is. It's played on flying broomsticks."

"Hm..."

He turned back to the window and the Nimbus 2000 being proudly displayed. It was odd not seeing his reflection in the shop window, further proof of his intangibility. Of his death. Except not, because he hadn't really died, had he? He'd escaped death mere moments before it took him, the ultimate cheat.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Daniel stepped away from the shop window and began to idly wander on. His companion slid into step beside him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, her arms clasped demurely in front of her, a quiet confidence in her bearing. Her simple white dress flowed with her movements but, like her hair, did not sway with the breeze. Just like his own.

Seeing the breeze and not being able to feel it: that was another oddity. And he could see it now.

Side by side, they slipped through the mid-morning crowd. No one saw them, of course. They couldn't. But Daniel could see them, and he could see the glow that surrounded their cells, so faint it was beyond microscopic. DNA, Daniel could also see DNA now. Except that it wasn't technically 'seeing' because Daniel didn't really have eyes anymore. Just like he no longer had a corporeal body, only the memory of having had one.

Despite not really occupying the same space as the people around them, Daniel still stepped out of the way as a small, bushy-haired girl ran past him. Her eyes glowed with excitement as she dragged her harried, wide-eyed parents towards a bookstore. Daniel smiled. He understood her excitement, although in his case he'd been even younger and it hadn't been a store so much as a tent. And there had been sand everywhere.

The parents hadn't been wearing robes and their cells didn't have the same faint glow as their daughter. He frowned as he looked over the crowd again. There were a lot of children, more than he would normally expect to see. Then again, Daniel had no idea what the date was... was it the end of the summer already? He watched as several older kids greeted each other enthusiastically, like friends who hadn't seen each other in a while and felt a pang of sadness at the thought of good friends he might never be able to greet like that again.

Unwilling to let sadness mar the excitement of discovery, he let the anthropologist in him take over. He looked around, observing people – children and adults alike – interacting. Some greetings were less enthusiastic, some a bit more shy and awkward, and some carried quite a bit of animosity. But it was all painfully human.

The more he looked, the more something began to niggle at his mind. He looked closer, deeper.

"Morgana?" he said.

"Do you see it, Daniel?" his companion asked in place of an answer.

He pulled back and turned to her. "Yes, I think I do." He paused. "Is this why you brought me here?"

The corners of her mouth twitched. "In part." She looked away, into the crowd of oblivious people. Sadness flitted across her eyes. "Mostly, it was something I thought you would find fascinating to learn, that Earth still contains more for you to discover. But, yes, it was partly so that you could see it like this, this world within a world while it's still reveling in the height of its strength."

Daniel took a deep breath he didn't really need and then let it out slowly. "Before it starts to disappear, you mean."

Morgana nodded. "Yes."

"This could be fixed."

"Yes, it could be."

"... But it probably won't, will it?"

"No, most likely not, though for now there is still hope."

Daniel looked away from her, from the compassion and understanding in her eyes. He wanted to be angry with her, but this wasn't something that could be interfered with. There were many things he could fault the Alterans with, but this was neither their fault nor their responsibility.

So he continued to walk onward, past a giant man with a bushy beard leading a small wide-eyed boy with messy dark hair and an eye-catching lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.