Gradients

by Lepton

Harry and friends unwittingly change the fate of the galaxy. An exploration of magic, technology, ascent and descent.

A/N: I started this with an idea and I'm not sure where it's going, but I'm eager to find out. Timeline-wise, the escape from Malfoy Manor occurs late March 1998. In SG-1, the timeline is a bit more flexible, but in March 1998 the last episode of Season 1 aired, which was when Apophis sent his ships to Earth. They arrive above Earth in Season 2 Episode 1, which aired on June 26, 1998. I'm going to assume that the airdate for that episode is when it actually happens—but don't think that I'm going to follow some "let's just do what SG-1 did but with Harry Potter stuff added". I want to explore both universes, not just stick to the scripts.

This has not been edited. Recognisable content belongs to rightful content owners. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 1

Harry returned to Shell Cottage, numb. Dobby had been a true friend, and now, because of his ill-preparedness, Dobby was dead. He sunk into the soft blue sofa in the living room, casting his eyes on the spread of parchment on the coffee table. A quill rested on notes Bill had been taking earlier. Not a single word of anything Harry could see made any sense to him, and he was struck by how little he knew. How he'd barely tried in Hogwarts beyond the minimum—except in Defence, he conceded. How his survival until now had hinged on sheer dumb luck. How stupid it was for them to be out camping in the wilderness when Snatchers could appear literally anywhere instantaneously when someone said 'Voldemort'. What even was the point of all their moving about? They knew people who knew the Fidelius charm—why not apply it to their tent or a shack in the middle of nowhere and use that as a base? Why not even just stay at Shell Cottage? Bill and Fleur certainly didn't mind, and it was under the Fidelius with Bill as Secret Keeper. On top of that, they were both curse-breakers—surely, they knew a lot about dark and dangerous magic.

Speaking of—Bill peeked around from the kitchen. "Tea, Harry?" he asked.

"Please," Harry said. "Hey—Bill?"

Bill popped back into view. "Yeah?"

Swelling with anger at Dumbledore and his stupid lessons, he said, "You've come across a lot of dangerous artifacts, right? Have you heard of Horcruxes?"

The colour draining out of Bill's face was all the answer he needed. "I'll get that tea—and then we're going to have a talk," he said.

Bill returned a few minutes later with two floating cups of tea. Wandlessly, he tidied the parchment on the table and set the tea down.

"First of all, I have come across seventeen Horcruxes in my life. Thirteen in Egypt, two in Greece, and two in Sudan. So, you're in good hands," Bill said. "Second, I want to know where you heard about them and how they relate to You-Know-Who."

"Professor Dumbledore told me about them. Vo…You-Know-Who made six. That's what we suspect, at least. Ron and Hermione know too."

Bill grimaced. "Dumbledore should have come to me. Horcruxes are easy to deal with, if you know what you're doing. No offence, but it's not something I would entrust to a 17-year-old."

"None taken. He told me to tell only Ron and Hermione, so I assumed they weren't common knowledge."

"They're mentioned in a few biographies of Herpo the Foul. They usually call him the first known creator of the Horcrux, but the concept existed in the Old Kingdom of Egypt—it's just that we don't really know who created those ones. Herpo may have modified the ritual, though. Either way, it's a pretty crude method of attaining immortality and has some huge flaws."

Harry sat up a little straighter. "Flaws?"

"Well, yeah. Actually, it explains You-Know-Who's absence between '81 and '95. It's honestly pretty basic arithmancy. Hmm, let me start with the basics of the soul."

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Our modern understanding is that the soul is an entity of pure energy. Wiśniewski's thesis is that it's a 4-dimensional resonance that is encapsulated in a 3-dimensional truncated dodecahedron. I know what you're thinking," Bill said, raising his hand, "but yes, the soul literally appears as a truncated dodecahedron when you view it with animam revelio. That's a shape made up of decagons and triangles—the shape probably has something to do with the numbers 3, 7, 10, and 13 being arithmantically significant, by the way.

"To make a Horcrux, you splinter a small amount of your soul and store it in a container and in theory, if your physical body is destroyed, it anchors you to this plane of existence. Problem is that the ritual was developed well before the modern understanding or modern arithmancy. By creating the Horcrux, the primary soul is reduced, and the truncated dodecahedron capsule only works arithmantically for a whole soul."

"So Horcruxes are inherently unstable?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, in a way. The Horcrux ritual creates a new capsule for the splinter, but leaves the original capsule to reform on its own. The splinter is minuscule. It's an atomic fragment of the soul—it can't be divided any smaller. For the splinter, the ritual brute forces it into a spherical capsule, which is sufficient. But there's no way to reconcile the remaining primary soul with a truncated dodecahedron, so there's a tiny gap in the capsule—as if the edges don't quite meet properly.

"Normally, when someone dies and their soul remains as a ghost, the truncated dodecahedron is trapped on this plane by a complicated lattice of tetrahedral somethings. No one knows what they are or how it happens, just that if you perform animam revelio on a ghost, that's what you see. Fun fact, the ancient Egyptians seem to have known something close to the modern understanding—they believed that there was a part of the soul called the ka bestowed by the snake god Nehebkau that distinguished a living soul from a dead one."

"And with the Horcrux, it's not trapped like that?"

"Right, so the primary soul is unable to leave this plane of existence, but there's no lattice to stabilise it. So, it's the combination of these two factors that make Horcruxes flawed. The lack of lattice means it's very difficult for the soul to regain a coherent form—that's why it took You-Know-Who over a decade to reappear. The gap in the structure also means that if the primary soul spends too long not being tied to a physical form, the soul can literally blur into nothing. Multiple Horcruxes compound the problem. If he weren't such a psychopathic bastard, I'd almost be impressed that he managed to return at all. Mind you, he's an idiot if he thought splitting his soul into seven pieces would mean anything. Seven is a powerful number, but not in a completely arbitrary way like that."

"Wait, destroying all of his Horcruxes isn't even necessary?"

Bill laughed. "Merlin, no. If his body is destroyed, it clearly takes him at least a decade to regain enough energy to do anything. If more Horcruxes have been destroyed since last time, it'll take him even longer. As splinters, they still retain a link to the primary soul—obviously, since can they anchor it. It's difficult to explain how it works, but the gaps in the original capsule cause it to rapidly oscillate, as in the gap gets shunted around to the different edges of the capsule as it tries to close it off. The link inhibits that oscillation, and acts sort of like a lattice, but a really terrible one. Still, it makes it easier for the primary soul to regain coherent form."

"We think he had five when he came after my parents. We've destroyed three so far, and he made his snake into one a few years ago I'd guess," Harry said.

Bill looked impressed. "You already got three?"

"Yeah, there was the diary that possessed Ginny during my second year, a ring Dumbledore destroyed, and Slytherin's locket."

"Ginny was possessed by a Horcrux for a whole year!?" Bill nearly shouted, knuckles white around the handle of his teacup. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Has she had any therapy? RON! COME HERE!"

"No one told you about Ginny's first year?"

"They didn't tell me she'd been possessed! Or what the artifact was! It was just 'Ginny came across a dark object, but she's okay'."

Ron came through the doorway dishevelled. "What's going on?"

"Did you know Ginny was possessed by a Horcrux?"

Ron shot Harry a surprised look. "Yeah, only after Harry told me Dumbledore told him what it was."

Bill grumbled. "We'll talk about this later. Harry's been telling me what you've been up to."

"I was just getting started, really," Harry said. "But we should have asked Bill earlier. He's told me more about Horcruxes and the soul in five minutes than Dumbledore did in a year. Ron, we don't even need to destroy all of them."

"…what a tosser," Ron said, grabbing the back of his neck and staring at the ceiling. "Dumbledore, I mean. Think about it. If he shared any of this knowledge about Horcruxes before, we could have been focusing on other things. Like planning how to actually take You-Know-Who down."

Harry nodded. "Now I'm suspicious of these other cryptic clues he left us. Why send us chasing down the Deathly Hallows? And this bloody Snitch," he said, pulling the little golden ball from his pocket. "'I open at the close'. What's that supposed to mean?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "Deathly Hallows? He believed in that 'Master of Death' bollocks? Why would he…oh—oh no—hold still Harry," he said, picking up his wand. "Don't worry, I'm just going to check something. Animam revelio."

Ron and Bill's jaws both dropped. "Bloody hell, that doesn't look normal," Ron said.

"What? What is it?"

"Harry, you're a Horcrux," Bill said.

"I'm a what?!"

Bill raised his hands hurriedly. "Not a proper one. It's not really tethered to you. Actually, I have a solution for it so don't worry about that. But Harry…there's something else. You have a lattice."

"Like the one ghosts have?"

"Yeah, or very similar visually at least. Don't ask me how, I haven't got a clue. This is an educated guess, but I think it's why you survived the Killing Curse and why the fragment can't possess you. Could be something your parents figured out?"

"What a fucking tosser," Ron blurted out, shaking his head. "Dumbledore, again—sorry. Harry, I've just realised. He wasn't training you or giving you anything useful because he was expecting you to sacrifice yourself to kill the Horcrux in your scar. That's what 'I open at the close' means—Harry tell the Snitch you're dying."

Harry shrugged but brought the Snitch up to his mouth. "I'm about to die," he said.

It clicked, and a tiny golden panel opened to reveal a shiny purple-black stone. "Oh, that bastard," he muttered, plucking it from the cavity. "It's the Resurrection Stone."

"Neat, I guess," Bill said, taking a sip of tea. "Anyway, good news, Harry. Since that idiot Dark Lord left an untethered splinter in your head, a rudimentary Egyptian soul trap will rip it right out. Then we can exploit some of those flaws I was telling you about. The link between the splinter and the primary soul opens right up into a gap in the capsule—you might even say it's the perfect vector for a spell."

"You're saying we can curse You-Know-Who using the bit of soul in my scar? Or any Horcrux for that matter?" Harry asked.

"Yep. Dumb, isn't it. That's why Horcruxes are more historical curiosities and less practical immortality. After Herpo, there were probably only a dozen more who dabbled with them, but even then it was known that they were problematic in other ways. For instance, making a new body once your original dies, finding someone else to perform an embodiment ritual for you, that sort of thing."

"Well, he did make his first one when he was sixteen. And he is an uh…arrogant, narcissistic sort of chap, so I'm not surprised he thought he was being clever. What do we need for the soul trap?"

"Uh, let me see. A rock to transfer the splinter to, some desert sand—but the beach sand here will do fine, linseed or castor oil for anointing, and some gold wire," Bill said, counting off his hand. "You two, go fetch a round rock and a bowl of sand. I'm going to get the oil and a book to double check. Only problem might be the gold wire; I don't have any on hand."

"Can we make some from Slytherin's locket?" Harry asked.

Bill shook his head. "Not me, goldsmithing is incredibly difficult…buuuut Griphook's in our spare room. He'd be able to sort that out. I'll ask him."

Fifteen minutes later they converged back at the sofa, this time with Fleur and Hermione, who had insisted on being present despite her condition. Harry was sitting on the floor in his boxers, trying not to be self-conscious while Fleur smeared linseed oil in certain spots on his torso and head.

Bill was busy wrapping the rock in the fine gold wire Griphook had procured. "Ron, dry that sand will you?" he said. "Less moisture the better."

Hermione was sitting in the armchair to the side of the sofa absorbing the whole process and scribbling notes. Once Ron had hit the sand with half a dozen drying charms, Bill dropped the rock in it.

"Watch this," he said, grinning, as he picked up the bowl with both hands. Gradually, the sand started to liquefy and flow over the rock, encasing it and the gold wire in a shell of glass.

"What? How'd you do that?" Hermione asked immediately.

"Earthenware is a pretty good magical conductor," Bill said. "It's just like casting a spell, but the ancient Egyptians developed a lot of magic like this pre-wand era. Wandless magic is still common in Africa, you know."

Hermione copied that down dutifully.

"Right, let's get started. Lie down, Harry."

Harry complied. Bill placed the glassy rock on Harry's chest, spoke a few sentences in what Harry presumed was ancient Egyptian with his hand on the rock.

"Wait for it," Bill said, pulling his hand back. "Any second now."

There was a strange slurping noise, and Harry saw a black blob shoot down his nose toward the rock.

"All done."

"That's it?!" Harry nearly shouted, sitting up and making the rock slide onto the floor. "That's all Dumbledore had to do to free me from that thing? Sorry—thanks Bill, I'm just kind of shocked."

"No problem, Harry. Yeah, it's not flashy, but it's effective," he said, picking the rock up and tossing it in the air a few times. "Anyway, I know a horrible soul eating curse we could send down the link. Give me a couple of hours and Fleur and I can figure out the arithmancy to make it spread to all his soul pieces before activating."

"No more Dark Lord?"

"No more Dark Lord. Didn't think it would be this easy, huh? Too bad he's too arrogant to realise how stupid he is."

"You mean this—" Hermione gesticulated wildly, "this nightmare has all been for nothing?! All these people dead, Britain terrorised, because—because Dumbledore was so fucking sure his way was the only way? This—" she pulled up her sleeve to reveal her angrily red 'MUDBLOOD' scar, "—was because he didn't share fucking anything with anyone?"

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged him off. "Don't Hermione me, not today," she said, snatching up her notes and stalking off.

"It's okay, Ron, give her some time. It has been a pretty terrible day," Harry said, pulling his trousers on.

"Yeah," he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Ron, why don't you show Harry the vault?" Bill said, eyeing them. "Fleur and I will get started on that curse."

"Sure. Come on, Harry."

Harry followed Ron down the hall and into a room at the end. Bill's study was a surprisingly cosy room, with shelves upon shelves of books and cabinets full of trinkets. Warm sunlight poured through the large window looking out at the ocean.

"You'll like this," Ron said. "See that circle? Go stand in it. Alright, now tap your heels together three times—I'll be right behind you so move out of the way."

Harry grinned and tapped his heels together. "There's no place like home, huh?" he said, then he felt himself drop through the floor. He scrambled away just in time for Ron's feet to appear, followed by the rest of him.

Taking his eyes off Ron, he turned to look at the room he'd landed in. "Oh, Hermione's going to be so jealous," he breathed.

There were rows and rows of artifacts. Scrolls, pottery, tablets, jewellery, bones, plant samples—all sorts of things.

"When Bill used to go on expeditions, the goblins only cared about some artifacts, so they let him and the other curse breakers keep the rest to research. Ended up collecting more than he had time for."

"Honestly, now I want to be a curse breaker," Harry said, picking up a jar and looking at it closely. "Should've done arithmancy and runes."

Ron shrugged. "I know Bill wants help with his research. Oh, locked cabinet means stuff inside is still cursed, by the way."

"Hey, it's that Nehebkau bloke Bill mentioned," Harry said.

"What?"

"Oh, it just says 'Nehebkau, imprisoned by the almighty Ra six thousand and thirty-six cycles after arrival' around the top."

"Harry, that's a bunch of squiggles."

"Really?" Harry asked, squinting at the jar. "Oh yeah. That's weird." He lifted the lid and peered in. "Wonder if Bill knows there's a dead snake in this," he said, glancing at Ron. When he looked back, the snake was staring at him, the frill around its neck raised. "Oh shit—"

There was a searing pain as the snake launched into his open mouth, and he collapsed to the floor. The snake was attempting to subvert his mind and take control of his body. It had no way of knowing that Harry was practically immune to mind control—the Imperius, Veela allure, and possession had all failed. Harry pushed back. Liberated from Voldemort's soul splinter, he brought the full weight of his mind and magic to bear.

He stretched and squeezed at the entity in his mind. It was old. Very old, and supremely powerful. Far beyond anything Voldemort had ever inflicted upon him. He could feel himself tiring, but Harry kept pushing.

He was dimly aware of the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision, that he was only seconds from passing out. He started gathering all his remaining strength, sharpened his magic to a focus and pushed.

The pressure evaporated. All sensation returned to him, and then some. An exquisite warmth flowed through his arteries and back up his veins, making him shiver uncontrollably, while his mind was being flooded with snippets of memory spanning thousands of years.

He knew. Merlin, he knew it all. The Goa'uld, spreading death and discord throughout the galaxy. Twenty thousand years of domination and oppression. Hundreds worlds of humans transplanted from Earth to be used as slaves. The Pyramids being spaceship landing pads? Battles fought in space on a scale Harry could not comprehend. Traces of even more ancient civilisations that the Goa'uld scavenged from. Genetically engineering and releasing snakes, based on a Goa'uld parasite, onto Earth. This whole time, he'd been speaking native Goa'uld, not Parseltongue.

There was so much, too much for him to even begin to process. It had been alive for a thousand times longer than Harry, and yet, the 'god' Nehebkau bowed before him. Nehebkau, bowed until shattered, was now Harry.

"Harry! Oh Merlin, Harry!?" Ron was shaking his shoulder.

"Ron," Harry spoke, as he got to his feet. His voice came out doubled, deep and gravelly. "Ugh, weird, how do I turn that off. There—no—there, that's better. Sorry about that. I'm fine, that was an alien parasite. Alien, like from the other side of the galaxy. It tried to take my body. Boy, do I have a lot to share. Let's go back up, I'll explain more with everyone there."

Ron stared at him. "Uh—yeah, okay," he said. "Your eyes just glowed yellow, by the way."

"Bollocks, how do I switch that off. Are they still doing it?"

"Nah, it was only a flash."

"Hmm, I'll worry about it later. Was I out long?"

"Out? You only collapsed twenty seconds ago."

"Felt like ages," Harry said, "I feel great though. Better than ever. Parasite injected some kind of metal into my blood, and it's pumping out healing factors and neural stimulants like mad."

"Mate, I only understood half of that," Ron said, stepping back into the circle. "Tap three times, again," he said, clicking his heels together. He shot through the ceiling.

Harry followed him through. "Let's go to Mr Ollivander's room," he said, taking the lead up the stairs. "It might sound crazy, but I think that parasite just then was the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm free, Ron. Freer than I could have ever dreamed of. Free of You-Know-Who, but now I'm free to do so so much more. I want you to come along—I think you'd love the adventure. Hermione too. I know she can't refuse knowledge."

"Sure, mate, soon as you've told me where we're going," Ron said.

Harry knocked on a door. "Mr Ollivander? It's Harry and Ron."

"Come in!"

"Sorry to bother you, sir. I've just learned the most incredible things and wanted to call everyone in the house together to tell you about them. Since you're still recovering, I thought it to make most sense in here."

"Of course, Mr Potter," Ollivander said, shuffling himself into a more upright position on his bed.

"Expecto patronum," Harry said. The blindingly white stag shot from his wand and trotted up to him. "Come to Mr Ollivander's room," he told it, then directed it out to the rest of the cottage.

It only took a few minutes for everyone—Luna, Bill, Fleur, Hermione, even grumbling Griphook—to assemble. Harry looked at Griphook in shock.

"You're a Furling!"

Griphook stared back at him, mouth agape. "How do you know that word?!" he roared.

"I'll explain. However, I assure you—I defeated the parasite and I am in control."

"Furling?" Hermione asked.

Griphook grumbled. "Mr Potter is correct. The word Goblin is descended from the High Ghab'led'hegok word Ghurbling, itself descended from the Old Feb'led'gok word Furling. We are the last remnant of a race that crashed on Earth three millenia ago."

"You're aliens!?"

"Indeed, Miss Granger. Now, Mr Potter is one too."

"What?! Harry what the hell happened?"

"Well, Ron was showing me Bill's artifact collection and I picked up a jar—one of those ones Egyptians used to store body parts."

"A canopic jar?" Hermione said.

"Right. I realised I could read a line around the top—by the way, Parseltongue is an alien language passed down to snakes via genetic memory. Oh, and snakes are genetically engineered aliens. Anyway, it said something about Nehebkau being trapped by Ra. So, I opened it and saw a dead little snake inside. Only it wasn't dead, and it shot into my mouth and is now wrapped around my brainstem."

The room became collectively alarmed. "Harry?!" Hermione said.

Bill shook his head. "Sorry, Harry, that's my fault. I did check everything with detection spells, and I know the jar you're talking about—it was magically inert. It shouldn't have been possible for anything to be alive in it."

"Oh, he's fine, isn't he?" Ron said, clapping Harry on the back.

"Yeah, what Ron said. It's alright Bill, I probably shouldn't have been opening up bits of your collection. And technically it was a stasis jar, made with their technology, so it probably wouldn't have registered on any kind of spell. Anyway, the little snake fellow was actually Nehebkau. He was nearly twenty thousand years old, and now he's braindead and I have all his memories. All these alien parasites posed as gods thousands of years ago, so they were the origin of all the gods in various cultures. The parasite itself is neat though, it's healing me, dosing me up with neural stimulants, and it put some metal in my blood that makes me feel really really powerful, magically speaking. Oh, get this—the metal is a stable isotope of element 114. I know I only did primary school science, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't occur on Earth."

"Harry, everything you're saying sounds absurd," Hermione said.

"I don't know, I think it sounds quite interesting," Luna said in her usual fashion.

"Thanks Luna," Harry said. "Sorry, I know I'm being a bit incoherent. There's a lot of information to sort through. The gist is, I have absorbed twenty thousand years of an alien's memories. That includes knowledge—a lot of knowledge—about the galaxy, technology, and how to make that technology. Now, for those of you who haven't yet heard, You-Know-Who will perish later tonight."

"It will only take another fifteen minutes to modify that curse, 'Arry," Fleur interjected with a smile.

"Thanks Fleur. Once that bastard is gone, I want to set my sights further out. Nehebkau's memories are a few thousand years out of date, but I have no reason to expect the galactic situation to have changed much. Basically, the alien race that he was part of—the Goa'uld—have subjugated most of the galaxy. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of worlds full of people who descend from humans transplanted from Earth by the Goa'uld. Many of them are enslaved, many of them brainwashed from birth to believe that the Goa'uld are gods."

"Great Merlin," Ollivander said, aghast.

Hermione brought her hand to her mouth. "Thousands of…worlds?"

"The Goa'uld have largely been unchallenged for thousands of years, but a lot of their power comes from technology that they've scavenged and adapted into their own. There were powerful civilisations that left a lot of technology strewn about the galaxy. Now, the Goa'uld have big battleships and armies, and I can only imagine it's a matter of time before they rediscover Earth. Earth is…Earth is awfully primitive compared to what they're capable of, and it has six billion potential hosts for their parasites.

"There's one thing in particular that makes me afraid. In Nehebkau's memory, there is a device that they call a Chappa'ai. It wasn't invented by the Goa'uld and they are incapable of making them, but it is a device that enables instantaneous travel between planets."

Griphook inhaled sharply. "The Astria Porta!" he said. "It was created by the oldest, and most advanced race among the Alliance of Four Great Races. Furling were part of the Alliance, but the Alterans were old when we were still learning to walk. We even called them the Ancients."

"Is all of this common knowledge amongst goblins?" Bill asked.

"Yes," Griphook grinned, "every goblin learns our origins. We may have lost most of our technology in the crash, but our ancestors made a record of all they could recall before their death. All those expeditions we sent you on—they are to search out remnants of advanced technology in the hope that we could find a way to return home. Unfortunately, we have so far retrieved mostly low-grade artifacts. Not sufficient to recreate anything like a starship, much less an Astria Porta—not that the Furling were ever capable of such a feat in the first place."

"Egypt was where the Chappa'ai—or Astria Porta—was last located. So, if you have not found it, then we can only assume someone else got there first."

"Hold on, Harry. Are you saying there's a device on Earth that can teleport people across the galaxy?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said, "though it's a wormhole, so it's not really teleporting. Ra brought it with him when he arrived on this planet eleven thousand years ago."

"He brought it with him?" Griphook asked.

"Yes, is that strange?"

"Many millions of years ago, the Alterans were said to have seeded many of the habitable worlds in the galaxy with Astria Porta. We did not know that the one we were hunting in Egypt had been brought by a Goa'uld. Every clue we have uncovered as to the whereabouts of the Astria Porta on this planet led there. That may mean that if this planet were seeded, and its Astria Porta were not destroyed or removed, it could remain buried somewhere."

"It must be somewhere fairly remote," Hermione said.

Griphook grunted. "And deep enough that it was not detected by the Goa'uld when they arrived."

"This Astria Porta must 'ave been above ground at some point in the past, non? If it was used to travel between the stars?" Fleur asked. "Where could that be, if it is now deep underground?"

"If it's been millions of years, it could have fallen into the ocean, been subducted under the crust, covered by a volcanic eruption or a landslide…there are dozens of ways it could have been buried, if there even is a second one," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"It is not in the ocean. That would have been noticed," Griphook said.

"It's made of the same metal in my blood now, right? Naquadah?" Harry said.

"Yes. It is a ring of pure khalkrim, or naquadah, as you call it."

"There should be no significant quantity of naquadah on the planet, apart from the Chappa'ai and some leftover Goa'uld artifacts. Earth has none, at least that the Goa'uld could find. I don't think the Muggles have ever found any, either. Can we detect it magically somehow? I know different metals have different magical properties."

"If I may," Ollivander said, lifting a hand. "My family has, for generations, used a rather obscure divination enchantment to locate wand materials. I suspect it could be adapted to find this device, if as you say it is the most substantial quantity of the material on the face of the Earth."

"Divination?" Ron said, eyes bulging.

"Indeed, the field of divination is all about finding that which you cannot see. I'm afraid that the emphasis at Hogwarts has always been about reading the future—much woollier, but much easier to grasp," Ollivander said.

"Shame," Hermione said, "that actually sounds interesting."

"Quite. Enchantments are finicky things, however, and divination ones even more so."

"Interesting," Griphook said. "Goblins have no such magic, but we can discern the composition of any material we are able to touch."

"Could you teach us?" Harry asked Ollivander.

"Yes, but it will take time," he said. "And we will need to isolate some of the material."

"That's fine, it will be worth it if we can find another Chappa'ai. I suppose we ought to finish dealing with You-Know-Who first, anyway," Harry said.

"Perhaps tomorrow, once I have had some rest," Ollivander said.

"Of course, sorry Mr Ollivander, we'll leave you be for now."

"Bill and I will go finish off that curse," Fleur said, tugging on Bill's arm.

"Tea break's over, back on your 'eads," Luna said cheerily. "If you don't mind, Harry, I'd quite like to hear some more about the aliens."

"Me too," Hermione said.

"Once the Dark Lord is defeated, I shall return to Gringotts and inform them of these findings. They will no doubt want to talk to you, Mr Potter," Griphook said. He left with much less grumbling than when he entered.

"Luna, Hermione? Your room?"

Luna nodded. "Okay, Harry," she said. "Good night, Mr Ollivander!"

They trooped up to the room the girls were staying in. Hermione went straight over to her beaded bag. "I want to write everything down," she said. Ron rolled his eyes and smiled as he sat in a wicker chair in the corner.

"Hermione, there's way too much information for that to be practical," Harry said, flopping onto Hermione's bed.

"No, no—look! This is my self-indexing expanding journal," Hermione said, waving a brown leather-bound book at him. "Anything I write about I can search for. It's kind of like that Microsoft Word program on my dad's computer, only magical."

"Wot on your dad's wot?" Ron asked.

"Never mind, Ron. Muggle thing."

"But I want to know!"

"Really?" she asked, looking up from her bag.

"Yeah! I mean, why not?" he said, shrugging.

"Well, a computer is a device that Muggles use to do all sorts of things. Communication, shopping, storing and sharing information and pictures, games. My Dad has a program on his computer that lets him write documents and save them for later, and he can transfer it to real paper too, if he wants. And Mum used the computer to do the accounting for their dental practice."

"Fascinating," Luna said, plumping up her pillow. "Muggles are very creative."

"Hermione, honestly, there's just…so much. There's 20,000 years of memory in here," Harry said, tapping his head. "Even if I really cut it down and you had a Pensieve, you'd only be able to go through it in real-time."

"This is revolutionary, Harry! You have first-hand knowledge of prehistory, we need to make a record of it," she said, taking a stubborn seat at the desk by the window and preparing her quill. "Although, admittedly we don't have any physical evidence or sources, so it would be considered speculative by the academic community…still, it's important. One day, Earth might know of the aliens in its past."

"The highlights, then?" Harry said. "Well, let's see…Nehebkau was Ra's underlord. His head of technology. Before he came here Ra had attempted to take a new body, an Asgard body, but failed—Asgard are another of the Four Great Races. Anyway, a battle followed, and Ra fled with the assistance of Nehebkau, and they found themselves on Earth. Here, they discovered that humans were the perfect host. Ra and Nehebkau arrived well before any proper civilisation existed. There was no writing system. Humans were really just getting started with agriculture, so there were some small settlements."

"Early agriculture? Perhaps around 10,000 BC," Hermione said pensively, "but go back even further, I want to know what happened before they came here."

"Hmm, okay. In the early days, the Goa'uld lived in the rivers of a lush, temperate planet named Aaru. A primitive reptilian humanoid species, the Unas, also inhabited the world. I believe they still do, but I'm not sure. They were the original hosts. The Goa'uld parasitised the Unas by latching onto their brainstem, just as it did to me. That gave them absolute control over their host body. On top of that, they were able to make the Unas even stronger, faster and more durable than they already were by secreting chemicals into their blood. Potions," he added, seeing the confused look on Ron and Luna's faces.

"For a long time, the Goa'uld had no real ambition, until Atok discovered how to use the Chappa'ai on their planet. Under Atok, the Goa'uld quickly spread, taking armies of enslaved Unas with them to many new worlds, and developed their initial megalomania. They wished to conquer the entire galaxy.

"This continued for a while, spreading and scavenging technology. Atok ruled as the ultimate authority and controlled the armies, so his power was absolute. The other Goa'uld tolerated this, because Atok had enlightened them, and because he knew the most about the inner workings of the Chappa'ai and other technology—I guess also left behind by the Alterans."

Harry cleared his throat and waited for Hermione to finish writing. "After several thousand years, Atok's son Apep overthrew him. He divided Atok's armies amongst the strongest Goa'uld, and declared them his underlords. These were Ra, Nut, Thoth, Bastet, Isis and Osiris. Bastet, unlike the others, used a sort of cat-like species called the Sekhmet as her host and the hosts of her underlings. Under Apep, the Goa'uld entered a new age of expansion, and the Unas were almost wiped out because there were so many Goa'uld.

"Apep's strategy of dividing the armies prevented any one of his underlords becoming powerful enough to threaten his rule. Anubis joined as an underlord around three thousand years into Apep's reign. Most of the time after this is pretty unremarkable, just characterised by the Goa'uld expanding and mapping the network of Chappa'ai, scavenging technology and amassing huge fleets of starships. I would say the most significant development was the invention of the sarcophagus, which is a healing device that effectively made the Goa'uld's host immortal. It also marked the first time that metal, naquadah, was injected into the bloodstream.

"I don't think the Goa'uld were aware of this, but in Nehebkau's memories, the continued use of the sarcophagus appears to cause madness. And because they have genetic memory, that madness was hereditary, as in, when a Goa'uld Queen spawns new Goa'uld, all their parents' memories and experiences and madness are passed down."

"That sounds like a recipe for evil," Luna frowned.

"They are all unquestionably evil in ways our resident Dark Lord can only dream about. Maybe not the ones still on Aaru, but every single Goa'uld out in the galaxy has committed the most horrific acts of evil."

"Blimey, you think they'll come here again?" Ron asked.

"Absolutely. I really don't know how much time we have. If they find out where we are, they'll come. With massive fleets of starships. And we'll have no choice, nothing humans can field could even have scratched an Al'kesh from Apep's era, and that's just a small bomber and troop carrier. I can only assume that the locals in ancient Egypt somehow forced Ra's departure and Earth was forgotten about, otherwise we would already have been slaves to them."

"Merlin, this makes it feel like You-Know-Who's not even worth the trouble," Ron said.

"Logically, if the Astria Porta—honestly that sounds a lot like Latin for Stargate, which is a lot easier to say, so—if the Stargate in Egypt were recovered by some country, we can be reasonably sure they're either working on it or have cracked it and are using it," Hermione said. "It sounds like a complex device, but if the Goa'uld and the primitive Unas can crack it, I suspect it's a much easier ask for 20th century Earth scientists."

"Right," Harry said, "nice name, by the way—Stargate. The Stargate is a robust and actually very simple-to-use device. The complexity is hidden inside. All you need to do is apply enough power and dial an address. That's it. As long as you have a valid address, and the target is not obstructed somehow, it will connect. Most of the power is needed to initialise the wormhole, maintaining it is easy."

"Very much in the realm of 20th century Earth scientists," Hermione said dismally. "I'm sure they would be able to scrounge up enough power somehow."

"And I know that there were addresses floating around on bits of carved stone back in the day. If they have the device that does the dialling, it would be incredibly straightforward, and even if not, the only real hurdle is figuring out the point-of-origin symbol. That's different between Stargates, and always comes last. Usually with the dialling device there's a big orange button in the centre that inputs that for you, but without it and without any reference, it would be hard to determine."

"Alright, let's say that there's a country on Earth that is actively using the Stargate. Where could they go?" Hermione asked.

"There were only a handful of addresses written down anywhere. Fewer than ten. All within Ra's domain, so that his underlings would be aware of how to travel between his planets. Assuming they've recovered any of those, they could have encountered Ra himself."

"If Ra is still alive, and still owns those planets," Luna pointed out.

"Ah, well this is the part I haven't got to yet. Ra eventually became the Supreme System Lord, ruling over all the others, because he discovered humans and supplied them to the other Goa'uld. I don't know how much time has passed since Ra imprisoned Nehebkau, but Ra was powerful and very clever. I wouldn't be surprised if they are under his control to this day."

"So, what can we even hope to do? Even if we find a Stargate, where would we go?" Hermione asked. "I hate to say it, but I think we might be utterly outclassed."

"I thought you might say that. Ra's chief technologist, remember?" Harry said, pointing his thumbs at himself. "Nehebkau had some secrets though. First, there's a lab on Earth that only Ra himself knew about. Unlikely that he bothered clearing it out if he abandoned the planet, and it was only accessible via a ring transporter—that's like a short range teleporter. There's no way it's been found since, it was deep underground. Second, Nehebkau had an even more secret research and development facility that was only accessible using the ring transporter in the first lab. One even Ra didn't know about. It's also underground…on the Moon. Ra was right to be paranoid of him, Nehebkau was planning to overthrow him. Such is the way of the Goa'uld, though."

There was a knock on the door. Bill poked his head in. "Hey guys, we're ready," he said.

Harry looked around at his friends. "Let's finish it, huh?"

They filed out and gathered around the coffee table once again. Fleur was sitting in a squishy armchair, sipping a glass of wine, and reading some French periodical. The rock containing Voldemort's soul splinter sat on the table in front of her, holding down a few sheets of parchment. Bill pushed the rock aside and picked up the parchment.

"I checked again to make certain," Fleur said. "Everything looks good."

"Thanks, love," Bill said, kissing the top of her head. "Stay back for this, it could be a little messy," he said to them.

He scanned the parchment and raised his wand over the rock. Harry jumped when Bill began to chant in ancient Egyptian, mostly because he could understand parts of it. A misty grey droplet was forming at the tip of Bill's wand, bobbing about with an odd serenity. It swelled until it was hanging down like a fat insidious raindrop as Bill's chanting reached a crescendo.

Then he stopped, and the droplet fell onto the rock and suffused it with a swirling, milky fog. They watched for a moment longer, the fog swirling faster and faster until it developed into a strangely beautiful vortex. The milky vapours fell away into the vortex and vanished.

"Wonderful," Bill said. "We delayed the onset only by a few minutes—but it'll seek out and consume all of his soul."

.o.

"Come back here!" she screamed hoarsely, futilely trying to shake the bars. "Don't you dare walk away, you pathetic little worm!"

Her captor turned in the doorway, limned by the room beyond.

"Behave, princess," he said, "your family's existence depends on it." Then he slammed the door, and the darkness was absolute.

She slid down the bars. Her chin trembled despite her clenched jaw. Pain that adrenaline had been suppressing bloomed from her scalp, her arms and her back. The dungeon was so dark and silent, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Did her parents even know she'd been taken? Would they know where? Would they capitulate to the Dark Lord and agree to be marked? She felt dizzy and her head was throbbing, so she slumped over onto the cold stone floor.

She blinked. Time had passed. She'd fallen asleep, so time had passed. She had no idea how much, but her stomach felt like an empty void, and her bladder was about to burst. She sat up, wincing at the shot of pain her wrist emitted. She didn't remember seeing any kind of toilet when there was light, but she had been a bit focused on yelling at that cretin. She felt around, finding the bars easily. She followed them along and found a wall. Smooth, hard stone. She followed that and found two more walls. No toilet. No food had been left while she'd been unconscious either.

Slowly, she lay back down, and curled into a ball. Would anyone come back? Would even the disgusting man who had shoved her into this cell return? Her pelvic muscles faltered, and she felt her bladder empty.

She cried.

She blinked again. Her head hurt even more. Now she was desperately thirsty, and it stunk of piss. How long had she been in here? Had they forgotten her? There was no sign of food still.

She missed her family. Her parents, her sister. She missed her cat. She missed her wand. What she would give to be able to conjure some water. She felt so alone. She'd always been alone, but now it hurt.

She tried meditating, remembering the story of the Mongolian wizard who had used meditative Occlumency to survive for months without food or water. With her stomach cramping painfully and her throat parched, it was difficult, but eventually she slipped into a trance.

When she became aware of her surroundings again, she felt awful, and the smell was worse. Her bowels had decided to empty themselves while she'd been in her meditative state. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't even moisten her cracked lips. Still, no food had been left. It had been days, several at least. Perhaps longer.

She felt resigned. Was this really her fate? To die, a husk, forgotten in a dungeon? Were her family worried? Were they even alive?

Her mind drifted. In the eternal darkness, she began to see colourful patterns. Geometric, self-similar shapes. Colours so vibrant she couldn't even describe. She stared into them, welcoming them. Her head felt so warm. Oh, how she wished she could share the beautiful visions she was having with her sister.

She fell deeper into the patterns. They thrummed with an energy that filled her with such joy, unlike anything she'd ever felt. She wanted to cry again. She'd never wanted to cry, but the emotions were so overpowering. So scintillating. So inspiring.

She was burning up, but it felt so nice. Like cuddling with her cat under a thick blanket, or a hot cocoa by the fireplace in the Winter. She held her hands up to her face. She could see them again. They stretched into infinity; such was the depth of the colourful patterns. Their outlines blurred. Her mind blurred. She felt calm. She felt her soul vibrating with the patterns, aligning to their rhythm. She felt the patterns enter her soul, and blend with her entire being. She felt herself floating up—

"Oh Merlin, there's someone in here! Get a healer, quick!"

The sound startled her, and the world vanished.

A/N: I know in the show Goa'uld is supposed to be the influence for ancient Egyptian language, but when I say native Goa'uld, I mean how the parasites themselves communicate. I know this isn't entirely original—I've definitely seen some fanfiction that have had them speaking Parseltongue.