Chapter 3: Beginnings, War and Endings

A:N: Some parts of this story touch on very dark themes. You have been warned and frankly...if you want people in what amounts to a blacksite... it's not unreasonable that they are the worst of the worst.

2323-2359

2359

Sisko's Creole Kitchen, most often simply shortened to its better-known name of Sisko's thanks to the sign outside, was a place of comfort and warm normality almost all of the time. It had never failed to lift Harry's spirit and make him smile before for many reasons.

Part of that was the fresh and delicious food. As much as they could, they kept replicated food off the menu, which made Harry oddly comforted as it reminded him less of the Dursleys and more of home-cooked meals with his wives.

Part of it was the easygoing nature of New Orleans itself. The city, though far more advanced because it was the 24th Century, still had the easy and relaxed atmosphere that had been so much a part of the city during Harry's time.

But the largest reason that he found it so relaxing was Joseph and his wife Rebecca. Their warm personalities and easy-going natures had often been a safe harbour in a world that, while fantastic, was close enough to his own to be familiar and yet strange enough to be unsettling.

Today was not going to be a day where they managed to relax him. This was despite the fact that they had easily become friends by this point and the fact that he was happily enjoying a real beer in a quiet booth rather than the synthetic stuff so many preferred these days.

Given the cause of his bad mood, it was probably better that he was drinking synthahol as the best of that was produced by a race that the Federation had no official contact with yet. Instead, Cardassian traders were thriving as they acted as middlemen and though there were Federation variants (that Harry in his mind referred to as knock-offs) they weren't as popular as they lacked the depth of flavour and were very new so they had yet to saturate the market.

"With a face like that," a warm and soothing voice began, "you'd think that the world had ended". Harry couldn't help but smile as he saw his friend and was reminded of happier times for a moment. "It hasn't you know".

"Joseph," Harry replied warmly. "How are you? Where's Rebecca and little Ben?"

"I'm fine" he answered then, jokingly adding, "as long as my kitchen staff do their jobs right and no one argues with me about the right way to prepare gumbo. Rebecca is fine… she's away visiting some cousins in fact and will be sorry she missed you".

"And Ben?" Harry prodded, though not without purpose and not because he disliked their other children. He liked them all, he truly did, but from the first moment that he had met Ben and whenever he was in the younger man's company he had felt…something. He didn't quite know what it was but along with that strange feeling came another… that of being watched.

At first, he had been worried about it but, as time passed and nothing had happened, he had begun to relax. 'It doesn't feel harmful,' Harry added in the privacy of his mind, 'and it's been there for decades so maybe I'm imagining it… maybe".

"He's not so little anymore!" Joseph replied with a chuckle, firmly keeping Harry's wondering thoughts tied to the here and now as he did so. "He's currently posted on the U.S.S. Livingston. That's not all you know… him and Jennifer… they have a toddler now".

"You're an old Grandpa," Harry jokingly accused.

"Granpa yes… but I'd drop the old part… if you ever want to eat here again." Joseph was smiling even as he mock threatened his friend and Harry could see the happiness spill out of him, almost like it was a living thing. "Besides, you're one to talk. How old will you be on your next birthday?"

"At my age? It's hard to keep track but… three hundred I think".

"Well, I'll be damned," Joseph answered and he utterly failed to keep the note of shocked surprise out of his voice as he did so even as he studied his friend and one-time employee with a critical eye.

"I truly hope not," Harry replied even as Joseph saw something dark and painful flicker in Harry's eyes, if only for a second. It was so quick that if he hadn't been looking he would no doubt have missed it but, because he didn't he took a moment to really look at Harry.

To him, Harry looked far better than when they had last seen each other. At that time, five years before, he had looked like a man in his early fifties (in 20th Century terms) with his hair going grey in places, his face beginning to be lined with the wear and tear of life and his movements becoming slowly stilted.

More than that there was an air of frailness about Harry then, a weariness that he wore around him that was draining his every moment, often concealed or mitigated true… but it was there.

Now though, as Joseph looked at his friend it was almost as if that had all melted away.

Before him now was a man who appeared to be no older than twenty to twenty-five, let alone nearing three hundred, and accordingly was smooth-faced with movements that were flush with the vigour of youth. More than that he looked healthy and not the good diet, good doctor kind but more that he was incredibly fit as if he worked on it every day. All other little signs of age had also vanished, as if they were nothing more than a bad dream.

In place of the tired weariness was a sense of coiled power, at a purely instinctual level, that Joseph didn't actively recognise but, did still perceive somewhere in the back of his mind.

This shocking change registered on Joseph's face as a smile that was almost a grimace and a look like he was trying to figure out a puzzle without all of the pieces. Harry's only response to that was a slight shrug knowing, as he did, that the time it would take (as well as the mental gymnastics) would just raise more questions.

"So," Joseph began "why the long face? You look better than I've seen you in years and news gets around…. You made Commander two years ago and have just been given the Starfleet Medal of Honour".

"Yeah…well," Harry responded with a grimace of his own and not a little bitterness, "that's not something I'm particularly proud of. The Cardassian Front wasn't exactly a picnic".

"I don't suppose it was…I don't suppose it was". Joseph was many things, a stubborn chef, a master of his domain, a loving husband, a good father and now a grandfather to boot but, above all, he was a very empathetic man and could tell when he touched a nerve. "You might want to talk about it though. Give me a moment to get someone to cover for me and we'll talk. It doesn't have to be about that but… it might help you if it was".

As he moved off to do just that, Harry sat in his booth and couldn't help but follow his mind back to what had led him to being here in this very moment.

-Flashback Begins-

2323

Earth had come a long way from what Harry remembered of it, even before it had all burned down in his own universe. Granted, on the surface at least, everything looked the same in some 'historic' places but, beneath that veneer, you could easily tell that it really wasn't.

'Victorian houses rebuilt so many times with the latest materials made to look old, cafes that doubled as museums to the time that they were built…' Harry mused to himself. 'When will they admit, despite the facade that they plaster on, that it's not the same anymore?'

Of course, to notice the differences you really didn't need to do more than simply look up at the sky. When you did you saw shuttles, monorails with anti-grav and other flying traffic that were the stuff of science fiction when Harry was born. That wasn't even including the sight of transporters doing their thing as people hurried about their busy days, nor the eclectic group of aliens that the Federation and Starfleet fostered.

There were also no homeless people anywhere which, as much as it was a good thing, was also perhaps the most jarring thing of all.

Given that this wasn't even his universe and, even if it had been, he was centuries out of his time he knew that looking for magical sites on Earth was foolish. He did it anyway. He knew where the majority of them should be because, even when he was much younger, those sites were famous and during the war they were one of the places a lot of species instinctively moved to.

First, he visited Hogwarts. In his world, this had been (for a good portion of his life and world history) a bastion of learning for his people. Far more importantly for his current state, it also had one of the highest concentrations of magic that he had ever heard of. This not only powered all of the charms that kept muggles thinking that it was a ruin but the wards that protected it for time uncounted against attacks.

The illusion that it was not anything other than weather-worn rubble was, in his former home, just that. When he went there in this universe he found (with an unexpectedly deep pang of pain in his heart) that it was real instead. He was truly disappointed to find nothing more than the very faint background echo of magic that was present throughout this universe there.

Hoping against dwindling hope, he went anywhere that he could think of over the next few days. The Giant's Causeway seemed to be completely natural here and therefore was hopeless. Cader Idris had a few old traces, more the memory of a memory than anything else. Stonehenge came the closest, as it did have some traces at its roots, but they were so old as to be both beyond ancient and useless to him.

'In short,' Harry thought after seeing those places, 'there might have been some magical people once but they likely died out long, long, ago'.

He didn't have the heart to go to Potter Manor, that ancient building that he had rediscovered late in life and where so many of his ancestors had raised his family before him. The same place that he had, for a few short and bright years, to start his own.

Worse, he realised early on that he was being followed. His magic may have been largely unusable at the moment and the Force was, for lack of a better term, quieter here as far as he could figure out he was still very well trained both before and after he met his other self. Besides, quiet didn't mean non-existent and loud or not the Force still made an excellent ally.

His instincts, honed over most of his life, were better than most. Some could say that he was very paranoid and they might have been right except….well he was being followed.

Feeling those eyes on the back of his neck and not wanting to find himself actively fighting or being captured by an unknown person or persons, let alone whatever unknown resources they had at their disposal, he did the only sensible thing that he could.

He picked a random place on a map and ran away from anything that might give them more information about him, or what he was looking for.

And that was how, within two months of setting foot on Earth, he found himself with few prospects and stumbling into Sisko's restaurant. Rebecca had a weakness for strays and Joseph was almost offended that he hadn't tried creole food before.

He also found himself a job, as an added bonus.

Of course, in this modern age and dealing with unfamiliar technology, it wasn't really possible for Harry to truly hide. Not to mention, he had quickly realised before all of this that it would be very useful to his life now if he became a Federation Citizen and, not only would it raise even more red flags if he was to simply drop out of sight with that process ongoing, it couldn't complete unless they knew certain things… like where he lived and (roughly speaking) what he did with his day. He needed to be on records for that and, as far as benignly being so was concerned, he couldn't really think of a better way than working there.

Records meant, of course, that he could be tracked easily enough so, he decided that if they were going to do so anyway it was far better to give them nothing to see.

Most of his customers over the next three months that weren't really there for the food were from Starfleet Intelligence. He may not have been able to use Legilimency at the moment but, there were techniques in the Force that were similar. Far less exact and, unless it was an absolute immediate or galaxy-changing danger, usually needing a touch of some sort but, they existed.

He would have preferred Legilimency for many reasons but, the most pressing one was that the Force's version was only good with surface thoughts unless you held the subject for far longer than he could get away with and pass off.

To make matters even worse, something like that had to be continuous. He couldn't, for example, touch once, go away and then touch again and expect a better result. Only with prolonged contact could that even hope to be achieved.

So his defence, such as it was, was useless for in-depth scans but it did enable him to ferret out who was a spy or unnaturally interested in him easily enough.

It wasn't until he had been there nearly a full year that someone who Harry thought could actually be dangerous to him turned up. They did not work for Starfleet Intelligence and the sheer amount of warning that the Force scream at him due to their presence made him pause for a moment.

They were from Section 31.

Thankfully Harry was more practised now than when he had turned up on the Sisko's door. He also had plenty of experience with hiding his true self behind a mask going all the way back to his tumultuous childhood with the Dursleys.

He was a consummate actor when the need arose. He made it through.

2324-2329

Harry's goals for his survival, his life, hadn't changed and that was a fact he could no longer deny as the 'covert' surveillance calmed. He understood that his best chance to survive wouldn't be found on Earth. That of course only meant one thing.

Starfleet.

Although he could begin as a private entity travelling the stars and he was not without assets the restrictions on flight capability and armament for a civilian trader buying inside Federation space were high and, if he tried to buy outside of it his current assets would not cover the cost.

He joined the class of 2324, coincidentally a few days after his citizenship was finally granted, and his four years there were a peaceful break compared to most periods of his life. He was known as the best flyer in the class, indeed the best one through the halls in recent memory, and he gained the highest license through Starfleet's education and aptitude programs. He was considered a candidate for the honour program (a precursor to the later implemented and eventually infamous Red Squad) but he refused and gained a reputation as a loner. That refusal stung some even more when he breezed through every part of the weapons training and was considered a prodigy in every contest involving phasers and blades of most kinds. Of course, he applied for (and gained) all appropriate licences with them as well.

The phaser tournaments, though he won them, were something that exemplified what troubled Harry about Starfleet. It was a massive organisation that explored the galaxy, he understood that, but no matter what they thought Starfleet (and, by extension the entire United Federation of Planets) had little military skill… or at the very least no section truly dedicated to the military which meant that they were less able to combat such things… such threats to their existence.

Maybe it was precisely because the Federation was so large, that it had theoretically so much of an area to lose before anything became a threat or a true military would be so costly. Maybe it was the fact that there were very few powers that could currently threaten the entire Federation and all of its recent wars didn't come close to doing so.

Perhaps it was even as simple as the change in the human outlook on life since they had done away with things like poverty and hunger. It could be that, without those visceral reminders, they simply and happily ignored the harsh reality of an unforgiving galaxy.

Perhaps they had simply been one of the largest fish in a small pond for a very long time.

No matter the reason, to Harry's mind, they didn't take the threats of the galaxy as seriously as they should and the phaser was the most obvious symptom of this mentality.

It was seen more as a tool than a weapon. It had (at Harry's count) sixteen functions to its design and almost all had little to nothing to do with disabling or killing an enemy. Worse than that to him though was the fact that they fired in an easily traceable line rather than a grouped burst or single fire (in the main at least) and the tactical folly of that astounded him.

Also, when you gave a weapon, any weapon, a multitude of options you both made it more complicated and added to the problems that it could suffer from. If any part of a phaser failed then the entire thing would fail (as was true with most energy weapons) and encouraging that likelihood by design was akin to many historical military defeats…. It just hadn't happened yet.

The Commonwealth Sorosub which Harry preferred was a much simpler beast than the current Federation design even when you took into account its grappling spike attachment and, having been modified to fire the more powerful phased energy blasts rather than its original blaster bolts, was arguably a much better weapon to carry. Granted it would only stun or kill and after that, you would need something else to do what the phaser was capable of. Clearly, it was more limited in one respect but the trade-off was that it was far less likely to suffer a malfunction.

More than that it dealt with the most glaring issue for Harry in that it fired bolts. This meant that it was quicker to fire (fractionally at least) and far easier to move position without being detected even discounting the grappling spike.

When he brought this up after one of his classes, as well as the idea that tactical awareness should be taught to all Starfleet Officers rather than a statistically depressing low number (meaning those that joined Starfleet Security or took optional classes as officers) he received nothing more than a blank dumbfounded look at first.

They really hadn't thought of it like that…. It simply hadn't occurred to them.

When it was pointed out to them did they rally? Did they realise and hurry to correct this mistake? No. Instead, Harry received what he later thought of as 'The Speech'. Essentially it was a long-winded spiel, that was later repeated by three other instructors and eventually one supervisor (when he got to the point of having one), that amounted to the same thing.

Basically, the point they made was that the Federation was built on the ideals of inclusion, peaceful exploration and contact, not conflict. The counter-argument that if you wanted peace you must be prepared for war was considered nothing less than archaic to them.

Harry, of course, vehemently disagreed. He had seen first-hand what happened when a group of people were not prepared for a sudden and vicious attack. It had cost him everything so he was unlikely to forget.

Still, he had also learned the hard way that fighting the systems of the Federation from the inside was not something that he could really do. The cadets that he spoke to after his lecture from multiple instructors told him that much.

He began, quietly mind you, to develop the plans for his own shuttle/ship though he didn't have a name for it yet and he was even uncertain whether it would be a shuttle, a transport or (if he could get away with it) a fully-fledged starship. This was largely enabled by the fact that he had the licences to some semi-restricted Federation technology by this point and the fact that, though his navigation systems obviously didn't work here, the complex computer systems that enabled their use did.

The nav computer itself required thousands of complex computations and the power distribution systems were somewhat transferable. Granted, he only allowed some of the older designs, designs that didn't require the Force or magic to work and were outdated even then, to be released. The Federation paid him well for it (in Federation Credits of course) and installed it in every ship that they made afterwards.

It did, after all, increase the efficiency of power regulation in their ships by at least 20% which, in turn, freed up anywhere between three and fifteen per cent of their available power for other things dependant on individual design.

They were even working on adapting versions of what Harry considered inferior technology to older ships and, because Harry kept the proprietary rights to the original design, he was paid with every installation (less than 5% but they had many ships).

To further his plans of designing his own ship and to understand and meld the technology that he had access to with that of the Federation he majored in the engineering core with an emphasis on ship design and optional electives on stellar phenomenon.

When he graduated his first assignment as an Ensign was at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Shipyards where he was assigned the rather mundane task of trying to help speed up a very new idea… the miniaturisation of photon torpedoes and their launchers. If they took his ideas on board that would have been one thing but, as they really didn't, he requested a transfer within a year.

He was next assigned to the U.S.S. Venture. It was an exploratory vessel that was headed towards the Beta Quadrant.

Five years after that he would move sideways as it were into the command path and become the helmsman and main pilot of the Venture.

Only two things of note happened during that time. As opposed to ageing in stages like magicals like him were supposed to do he instead noticed that he was ageing like a normal man. Granted it was at the rate of a human who was blessed with the Force so slower than most but, still, far different than he should have if he was healthy.

This worried Harry, more and more over time, but for the moment there was nothing that he could do about it and so he tried not to dwell on it. He wasn't particularly successful at that, but he honestly did try.

The final thing was the friendship that deepened between him and the Sisko family.

At first, it was merely the convenient relationship between an affable employer and a grateful employee but, over time before he left and when he returned on leave, it deepened into a strong and abiding friendship that both sides grew to treasure. It would grow so much in fact that it was almost as if he became an unofficial member of the family.

Harry even babysat little Ben more than once and he could still feel something special about the boy, the Force told him that much, but every time he tried to focus on it whatever it was disappeared like smoke on the breeze.

What little he could glean was more impressionistic than anything else. It was a feeling of a weight that bore on the young lad, though not now, so more like a weight to come. That feeling was so powerful that the air sometimes felt saturated with it, that the boy's every footstep echoed with it and every timbre of his voice sang with its hidden choir.

It was an immensely frustrating puzzle to Harry that he didn't try to explain to the boy's parents because, frankly, it would serve no purpose other than to worry them even if they believed him. They couldn't feel it, couldn't sense it as he could and frankly, though it was highly unlikely, it could all amount to nothing.

2357

Lieutenant Commander Potter had served as Third Officer and helmsman on the U.S.S Thames, a refitted Excelsior class starship for seven years under the command of Captain Melbourne and it was mostly a good life of exploration and discovery even as he privately searched for any way to outlast his slowly fading bed, find Verteron Particles and understand more about the galaxy that he found himself in.

Util war had broken out between the Federation and Cardassia two years ago.

The Thames was a good ship, not to mention that as an Excelsior class, it was considered to be the adaptable backbone of the fleet. It wasn't however one of the newest ships and so they weren't lucky enough to be in spacedock at the start of the war and hadn't had time to return to one since. This meant that it was still much more orientated towards science and exploration than it was combat.

'Still,' Harry reminisced fondly, 'we make do. My wives would have laughed if they saw me now but, then I wouldn't have blamed them. With them, I was generally the quiet one in the relationship. On this ship it's different, hell it's been different for a while. I've become more outspoken, as I have many people serving under me, and I have learned to enjoy every moment far more than I ever have before as my time is running out. I have even had a fair few lovers, though no relationships. I am still not ready to commit to anything long term and made sure that every single one of my partners knew that before we began anything'.

On the day that everything changed for him again, it started in the same way as every other day, at two thirty in the morning.

At that time, as always, he was in holodeck two, across from his quarters, and was practising his Form II katas against holographic Klingons. He did this so early because it would be awkward to explain to the rest of the crew why he insisted on turning the safety features off during his training.

He usually used Form V and he had managed to master both of them. He was not complacent though, he did intersperse both with his basic knowledge of Forms I and VI though not today.

As always, when he trained, he wore his Silver Knight/Jedi robes with his Sorosub usefully at his hip. He simply found it more comfortable to do so after over twenty years of training with them.

It was more than that though, it was also a way of honouring all that he had become, all that he had gone through. He may be a member of Starfleet as well as slowly dying because of the very magic that should enhance his life who couldn't use his gift without risking death but, he was also more than that. He was the last (as far as he knew) truly trained Silver Knight and he would feel like he was doing a disservice to that training and his teachers if he didn't keep his skills sharp and remember them in some small way.

That being said he had also lived through unspeakable heartbreak and what effectively was an entire worlds end so, when not on duty, he still wore the robes and his survival belt. Frankly, he would have at least worn the belt more often if he felt that he wasn't already pushing Starfleet's sensibilities by wearing a simple belt with his lightsaber and Sorosub rather than a phaser.

He also had a bag packed (no doubt a remnant of his time running and hiding when the war was lost) at all times for safety's sake. More than that, at the cost of three years of his lifespan by his guess, he had painstakingly carved shrinking runes onto his slab but, the alternative if the worst was to happen would be him trying to carry something large, bulky and heavy through an unknown catastrophe.

All of which meant that he was prepared when the alarm sounded a red alert. That was followed within seconds by the computer's dispassionate voice calling for all hands to abandon ship.

He didn't know what had happened as, with a quick glance at the nearest panel, he could tell that main power was damaged. Without going to engineering or the bridge there was no way to tell how bad a state it was in but, given the call, it wasn't good.

Then the ship shook several times in the space of a second or two as it shuddered under fire from something. Then, with an engineer's knack he felt the ship slow as the engines were obviously hit.

His training and experience melded together as one and he moved quickly and without thought to cross the hall to his room. There he pulled his packed bag down with the Force even as he gently touched the runes on the side of the slab.

He paused for only a single breath to allow them to do their work. When they had the slab was the size of a matchbox and he quickly added that to his bag.

The area around him began to explode in earnest as he ran for the nearest escape pod. The corridor behind him burst into flame even as he added the Force to his limbs and his speed increased dramatically.

Emergency forcefields flared to life even as he did that and the lights flickered dangerously. Fire suppression then kicked in, trying to limit the damage, but it was obviously far too late as the computer voice switched to a self-destruct countdown.

Just as he thought that he might be free as he could see the escape pod a few steps ahead of him he literally turned the corner and ran into three Cardassians who had boarded the ship. He doubted that they were the only ones as, if it were him he would have sent several teams. Three, at least, to catch any stragglers, one to take engineering and another to access the bridge as either of the last two could end the countdown and the former could keep the shield down in case they could not.

'Only,' he thought as they tumbled into one another and, as if in slow motion to him, they began to raise their weapons, 'they are expecting to fight a seasoned Federation officer, not a Silver Knight'.

For the first time in many years, his lightsaber blazed to life against a true foe and it sang in the air.

Even as they staggered together and almost fell the blade cut through the woefully inadequate armour of one of the Cardassians, clipping the intruder's heart and burning through one of his lungs.

Harry used the half-fall to his advantage by turning it into a roll even as his free hand struggled, just briefly, to work around the bag on his shoulder and bring his Sorosub to bear. Thanks to the Force he was quick enough and the second Cardassian fell even before they had a chance to fully get his bearings thanks to a shot hitting his throat.

The third and final enemy managed to bring his weapon into a firing position but it availed him nothing as Harry's blade moved in a graceful loop taking both of his hands and then his head with a vicious backslash.

Then he dove for the relative safety of the escape pod, leaving the ship to its fate even as its automated systems activated and did what they were programmed to do.

It was from the small viewport in the escape pod that he saw the horrible truth. The Thames was finished even before it could begin to fight back as it was clearly struck before any of its impressive systems could come online or any of its well-trained crew could react.

By four state-of-the-art Galor class warships.

These ships were only a few years old or, as the ship designers used to jokingly say 'their paint hadn't dried yet', and it showed in how the fight (such as it was) was how the fight was going.

While an Excelsior class ship could stand a reasonable chance of beating one of the Galors, if it was either outfitted for combat more than the average or the crew was prepared neither applied here and, even then, victory was by no means certain. This was despite the fact that the Cardassian Union was many times smaller and largely lacking in recourses when compared to the Federation.

In the end, it came down to three things. First, they had the element of surprise. Second, the Union was more than prepared and active in this war while the Federation was largely the opposite. Third and finally, there were four of them.

Harry could only note the inevitable death throes of the ship that he had called home for many years absently as the small display in the pod showed that it was moving to the next step in its programming. It used its limited database and sensor capabilities to lock on to the nearest planet that was suitable for humanoid life.

Even as it used its thrusters to begin to alter his course Harry's horror mounted. He watched as several hundred other escape pods left the doomed ship. Some of them were successfully heading to the same planet that he was but many others were not.

Instead, they were being shot down like rabbits, the Cardassian ships making a sport of destroying their helpless enemy. Given their armaments and the escape pod's lack of defences, Harry doubted that any would make it clear of the firing range.

It was butchery, pure and simple.

In the end, as Harry watched in silent vigil, only sixty of the six hundred and fifty personnel made it to the planet and, within three days (unbeknownst to him at the time) fifty of them would be captured while the rest, excluding himself, would be killed by the forces that were sent to apprehend them.

Fifty out of six hundred and fifty, less than ten per cent even before their capture and this couldn't be seen as anything other than what it was… a crushing defeat for the Federation.

All of those fifty made it to the Cardassian-controlled planet known to the wider galaxy as Bajor.

When Harry's pod landed, like most of its kind, with a resounding crash Harry knew that he did not have much time. With efficient haste he swiftly stripped it of anything useful, knowing as he did that an armed response team was doubtless on its way. So he packed the emergency transponder, leaving the bulky power pack behind, and he also took the first aid kit as well as the majority of the emergency combat rations and fresh water. He didn't take more as he was limited by what he could safely carry.

Then, he headed for the highest ground that he could find and with as much speed as the Force allowed but, only after he had jerry-rigged the pod to explode the next time someone came near it.

He hoped that in the memory of those already lost, it was some Cardassian patrol and more than that… he hoped it hurt as they died.

Two Months Later

'God I miss being able to use magic properly,' Harry thought as he ate some sort of plant life that he had managed, barely, to transfigure into something more edible but only after his tricorder had told him that it was safe to both eat and digest. 'But at least I can do this much now'.

Bajor was a mixed blessing for both Harry as a person and his magic.

On the one hand, he had landed somewhere in the far north of the planet. It was not quite like the arctic but it was certainly very cold. It was bearable for him but, it was doubtless more than uncomfortable for the Cardassians that were searching for him and others like him given their reptilian nature.

As humans were closer to apes, Cardassians were closer to some form of alien lizard and it was both the reason that they enjoyed warmer temperatures than the average human and why they wouldn't adapt as well as Harry. Although, without access to his magic in a strong fashion it was not exactly comfortable for him either.

This did give him the time he needed to escape however as the Cardassians were both reluctant to follow, slow in doing so and needed breaks here and there if only to change groups rather than rest in a (for them) blessed heat.

So he moved south and into the mountains. As he did so he used every trick that he could to confuse and evade his pursuers and any scanners they might use. Though the Cardassians were on the hunt for Federation personnel their resources on this planet were stretched particularly thin at the moment thanks to increased Resistance activity which would only serve to confuse the issue even more, especially as they had temporarily impaired the Cardassian sensor network.

A stroke of luck that Harry was more than happy to take advantage of while it lasted. The hills and mountains had trace minerals in them that confused scanners utterly in some places and limited them in most anyway so, as long as he made it to them before a repair was complete, he would live for another day.

Then there was the confusing issue of Bajor itself. The more that he learned about the planet, the more he sensed, the more it confounded everything that he thought he understood.

Before actually stepping foot on the planet all he had known about it was what was common knowledge amongst those in Starfleet and a select few sensitive briefings about it as Third Officer as they would be near the embattled system. It was deemed prudent then that they were given a general overview of the situation and the tactics that both sides tended to use.

It didn't help the ship but, in the end, it did help him.

The gist was that it was a semi-occupied world that was in the midst of a bitter fight that was waning and waxing between heavy guerilla warfare and open rebellion. What Starfleet did not know, could not know, was that there was much more to the planet than something as relatively mundane as just that.

There were Verteron Particles here. It wasn't really the Federation's fault that they weren't aware of this because, not only was there a war on, but the limitations of technology hindered their discovery of this fact. Harry's senses may have been fading day by day but they were more attuned to the energy than any technology that the Federation or the Cardassians possessed.

Their abilities only extended to detecting free-floating particles in space or a large area (as far as he was aware) and that was not what Harry currently felt. He could feel it in the ground, bonded with it in some strange way that he had never before encountered. It was also very faintly in the air and everywhere in between.

Even though it was so weak it was still far more than Harry had felt since coming to this universe and it enabled him to do very small things such as transfigure a piece of food, though it deeply exhausted him to do so. It still wasn't enough to heal him, not even close, and even as he realised that he had to clamp down on his emotions even as his frustration threatened to overwhelm his control.

Before he had arrived here it wasn't like there was a massive hole in his magic that drained him day in and day out. It was more like a death of a thousand tiny cuts, cuts that never healed and wept his power constantly. The bed that he had created didn't, couldn't, heal that and only served to add to the amount that could be drained every time he was near it.

Here though it was different as, with the added help of the bed, most of the wounds that he had were closing and he had the tiny hope that he would be able to use a few selected spells eventually. It would be the work of months, if not years before the hope could ever be proven.

Still, with every breath, he felt better and better if only by painfully small increments.

He knew, thanks to the briefings that he had received and common gossip, what Cardssians did to their prisoners and, alone, likely unarmed and friendless, his crewmates were sitting ducks. As far as he was concerned this was a situation that he had to remedy.

The risks were great, it could cost him his life to even attempt to save them in an uncounted number of ways and his magic was unreliable to put it politely, no one would blame him for looking after himself first. Any sane person would understand the risk, of course they would, but he was Harry Potter and they were his responsibility.

'Small chance of success? A near-certain chance of Death? What else was new?'

-HPBNW-

The first thing that he did was raid a Cardassian supply depot meant for the many Officers that infested this struggling world. In his defence and in their arrogance they weren't very subtle about where they placed them as they truly thought they owned this world. Security also wasn't at its best as the Resistance rarely went for targets such as these and the Occupation had nearly fifty years of statistics and history to back that idea up.

Oddly they were more concerned with saving their people and killing as many Cardassians as possible.

Plus he didn't ransack it, in fact, he was careful to take only what he thought he needed so he hoped that it wasn't noticed for some time. This benefited him with items that he might need including a small backup Cardassian Security Console which he set up in a cave in the mountains with its own power supply and, beyond that, a few creature comforts to make living there bearable such as a portable toilet, food and medical supplies.

Having heard some of the guards talking while he snuck in he believed, even if they did notice the theft, it would likely be put down to another Cardassian and not him. On Bajor, what other planets would call theft, bribery, extortion and blackmail were just inventive business here.

Added to that, the information on the console was, as far as they were concerned, fully encrypted and therefore who cared if someone stole a little food to line their pockets? The same reasoning was used for both the blankets and the portable power source. He could almost hear them now arguing over which Glin had taken them for a little extra latinum or which Bajoran they had convinced to share a little warmth with them.

However, what they could not know was that in his belt was a computer stick. Less than seven inches long it happened to be one of the most advanced computer hacking systems ever made. It was both an offshoot and a cutting-edge relation to the droids that the other Harry had used, once upon a time, to make up for his hacking skills although, being a compact version it was very likely that advanced enough security systems would detect it.

The risk of discovery at that level was only compounded by the fact that they were technologies meshing that originated in different universes.

Still, there were workarounds, at least to a point, and Harry didn't want or need ultra-secret information at this point. Instead, he simply needed to know the locations of the work camps near the crash sites and, perhaps, records of recent prisoner transfers.

He would find those that were captured. It may have been his duty but, more importantly to him, he had a higher one… a duty of care.

-HPBNW-

When he did manage to find the missing crew members he was sickened by the conditions they were kept in. After all, briefings were generally dry and detached things but, the visceral reality was a hard pill to swallow. It wasn't just them there though, there were also almost two hundred Bajorans and they were being mistreated by at least seven hundred Cardassians, possibly up to a thousand.

It appeared that the Paqu Labour Camp doubled as a staging area or a choke point for something that the Cardassians had planned, or at least that's all Harry could think as he wasn't going to risk being detected by Central Command or the Obsidian Order when the why was less important than actually freeing the taken.

The things that the prisoners were enduring included (but were not limited to) the casual cruelty of vicious beatings, children being ripped from their mother's arms and held in a twisted form of blackmail against their parents…not because they had to but…because they could.

Casual cruelty was something that he expected from Cardassians. What he did couldn't reconcile was the casual enjoyment that many of them had for what they did. One or two… sure (there was always the possibility of a Voldemort type amongst them) but this was seemingly the reverse with so many of them amusing themselves with the terror of others.

His eyes burned as he watched, to try and figure out his plan, as a child was killed in front of a mother, as he saw men being hunted like rabid animals for sport. He stood in silent witness to obvious signs of starvation, through the screams of vicious whippings and a hundred other things besides.

They even made the prisoners dig their own mass graves and, while the one that he saw was mercifully empty at the moment, he doubted it would be empty for long.

And through it all, the Cardassians either laughed or did not care. Harry couldn't tell which of those responses was worse… sadism or indifference.

He didn't do anything because he knew that he was just one man. Despite his gift in the Force and his fractured magic, he wasn't strong enough or capable enough to rescue the prisoners without costing who knows how many of their lives and, worse, possibly killing them all while they suffered under the weight of false hope that they might soon be free.

He could, of course, simply free the Starfleet contingent but after seeing everything that he had he was not comfortable leaving the remaining Bajorans to their fate.

Frankly, even if he was fully healthy (which he wasn't by a very long shot) he doubted his chances. Given the numbers involved on both sides, it would probably still be both a bloodbath and an out-and-out massacre.

All of which left him with two choices. The first was to try anyway and accept that the horrendous losses were going to happen no matter what he did and make that work for him by combining his knowledge of alchemy and creating a Philosopher's Stone.

The act of creating one (and then using such a charged object) would heal him, he was all but certain of it. It was relatively untaxing, if complicated, and it had always been an option that he was aware of since his problems began.

The flip side of this was that it would kill everyone in the camp, Bajorans, Starfleet and Cardassian alike. It would rip the life from them and blend it into the stone. It would use the literal essence of their lives to birth itself and then provide Harry with life uncounted. It would be quick, over in an instant but that would still mean the deaths of at least around one thousand people.

Healing himself by killing that many men women and children? Not an option that he would ever choose.

On the other hand, he did have knowledge of several rituals and, thanks to the irreplaceable blood replenishing potions in his survival belt (that he still hadn't used after all this time), he could have enough magical substance in his blood if he used a lot of it to create one full ritual circle.

Where it got risky was with the fact that something like what he was thinking of hadn't been attempted in millennia and in the rest of the needed materials. It was a cardinal rule of any ritual to always understand as much about the components that you would be using to avoid or mitigate harmful side effects, the ritual failing or a very messy and bloody death.

Especially considering the nature of one of the materials he would have to use and the mythical history of one magical race in particular. The Veela.

Most of their long and complex history was largely unimportant to this current idea but, what was important were their origins in Ancient Mesopotamia and, coincidentally, where the ritual he was thinking of using was from.

The story went that there was supposed to be this witch who wanted to gain more control over her magic and form a deeper connection with it as well as gain more power. Her name was never given or had been lost to time but what was known was that she made a deal with the red, fire or sometimes called the common, Phoenix…if they could ever be termed as common.

From that deal and the ritual required, the first Veela was born. The ritual (and others of similar types) had been lost for more time than anyone wished to count before being rediscovered by the Silver Knights in the ruins of Earth many years later.

Though the strongest of magical creatures, like Dragons and Phoenixes did produce and maintain their own magic rather than the more symbiotic relationship wizards had (they even added an excess to the world at times… breeding for Dragons and during rebirth for Phoenixes). Harry had no desire to become a male Veela or some wizard/dragon hybrid, however.

He believed he could mitigate the former by using his knowledge of alchemy (specifically the principles of true transmutation) because Phoenixes did share a certain relation to one another and he had enough knowledge that he was reasonably certain he could permanently change the feather from his first wand from that of Fawkes to one of the birds more distant cousins.

This would mean an Earth, Air or Water Phoenix and whatever he decided to do he would have to act soon. The prisoners didn't have a lot of time.

To say that this would be magically taxing to him would be an extreme understatement and, because this had never been done in this way, he would have no way of understanding the side effects if he didn't die outright and that was a very big if.

The only thing he could be relatively certain of was that he would not become a male Veela and it wouldn't need the death of over a thousand people to save his own life if it succeeded.

Deep down a small shard of the noble child Harry once was still remained. There wasn't really a choice for him at all and, as soon as he reconciled that an old quote, he couldn't remember where he had found or heard it, popped into his head.

'What good I may do, let me do it now…for I may not pass this way once again'.

-HPSNW-

Ensign Sarah Jameson was the highest-ranking officer left among the thirty-two surviving crew members from the Thames and her back currently felt like it was made of liquid fire, thanks to her latest beating/whipping. She wanted to cry but, she knew that would only get her another one, at best, even as the Cardassians around her laughed at her pain…her weakness and, thanks to being malnourished, it would waste precious water.

It was around two in the morning and she knew that she should try and get some sleep. The hopelessness of her situation was keeping her up though, wrapped around her mind like some morbid cloak, and stealing even the simple peace of oblivion.

'You are a Starfleet Officer,' the twenty-two-year-old told herself, 'pull yourself together. There are people relying on you. Keep going…for the others'. Even to her though the words felt hollow, a dream against the harshness of reality.

Her cell didn't help with her attempt at all. All of the officers were forced together in a fifteen-foot by twenty-five-foot rectangle that was barred and only had a bucket for a toilet.

There used to be eight officers and now there were four. She knew that those that had been taken from the cell were dead thanks to the Cardassian's graphic retelling of what the Cardassian justice system had done to them and the first officer to protest their treatment under the rules of war.

'The rules of war?' she resisted the urge to laugh brokenly. 'Who made the rules of war and why? Why did we ever think the Cardassians would obey them?'

The one who raised the complaint was a Vulcan Lutenient, newly transferred and (she thought) part of the medical detachment. She would never forget the calm and detached way that one of the jailors had heard out his reasoned argument. The nameless Cardassian had even agreed, as if they were having a casual conversation, with many of his points.

The man's expression hadn't changed, at all, even as he drew his sidearm and shot him straight through the head. His face only changed when he spat on the now cooling corpse of the man who had done nothing other than question their treatment.

Then his voice changed, growing colder than anything she had ever heard, as he pointed out that there was no official record of Starfleet prisoners being here, only enemies of the State, and that would change. They weren't prisoners of war, they were labour and fonts of information. As far as he was concerned, the minute that changed, they were dead and he wouldn't waste his valuable time gently explaining things to corpses.

Hope had abandoned her at that point and it seemed to take everything else good with it. Her memories provided no comfort, only a sharp longing for things as they once were, her sleep alluded her, her body withered and her mind teetered on the edge of a broken madness.

She thought it had taken her completely for a moment before she realised what she was seeing was real, as a handsome face literally rose from the ground. She knew that face, it was one that inspired many a naughty dream among the younger officers including herself and (if rumours were to be believed) a very fulfilling if casual night or two amongst many others.

"Lieutenant Commander Potter?" she half whispered and half cried.

-HPBNW-

'It's too early,' Harry thought as he stood up and the ground magically restored itself and yet was somehow still connected to him. He stood before Ensign yes, but part of his mind was worrying over the changes going on in him and another seemed to be trying to mesh with the earth beneath him.

The magic of the ritual had worked so far, it had healed his core and even strengthened it to new heights, but the power of the Earth Phoenix was still running through him. It was still remaking him, rapidly ageing him, tearing him, replacing him so he had no idea whether any part of him was new or even human second by second.

He was unstable, in a biological sense, though whether he would remain that way was anyone's guess.

Underneath his appearance, every cell of his body was being saturated with magic, breaking apart and reforming moment by moment. His new core was already restored from the magically rich ground of Bajor and was in fact overflowing, building to an explosion that would either kill him or change him forever.

Needless to say, the pain was paradoxically immense and also a distant thing that he could almost view in a detached and clinical way.

"Hello Sarah," Harry replied. Even his voice was changed, sounding more in that moment of an oddly musical avalanche than a human throat should ever be able to produce, muted of course.

"Harry?" She asked and her tone was not only that of disbelief at what she was seeing but, also genuine concern over whatever was happening to him. He knew that, to her, he looked like he was turning into an old man and was clearly in a lot of pain. "Are you okay?"

'The most redundant question ever'. Harry's thought floated across his mind like a breeze, to be forgotten the instant after it had formed.

"Not really…" he answered with a grimace, "this is just the reset now, going through the cycle, I can't stop it. I'll either be fine…or dead in a few minutes".

"Oh God, what can I do?" She almost pleaded with him. He was warmed, somewhere in his mind, that despite all she had been through already she was more concerned about him at that moment than anything that had befallen her.

"Make it worth it," was his simple response even as he handed her a pebble and she looked understandably confused. "You're aware of my… unique biology?" She nodded, "Good. Keep this. You are the last. I've already passed one to every member of the crew and I've got a few of the Bajorans left to pass them to. In a little while…you'll be free of Bajor. Get everyone safe, get off the planet and get back to the Federation".

"And you?" She pressed.

"I'll be along," he replied in a soothing voice though they both knew it was more a lie than the truth.

Then he sank back into the earth from where he had come forever grateful that, for the moment at least, he could move like the Earth Phoenix. Legend had it that, as a penguin flew through the water, they could fly through the earth when they wanted to. Granted, they could also fly in the air but, compared to its fiery cousin, it did so at a much slower rate as its wingspan was longer and more structured to riding thermals than flapping away.

He was also aware that every piece of magic that he used, like making portkeys out of pebbles for example, lessened his already slim chances of survival. He didn't need to be told this, he could feel it somewhere deep inside, but he wasn't going to stop.

More than that, he was making hundreds of them.

It was on his fourth (of eight) visit to the remaining exhausted Bajorans that his failing state gave him an unexpected boon. His turbulent magic completely slipped his control for an instant, lashing out in barely coherent legilimency and connecting with the beaten and chained people.

He stopped and swiftly moved to one Bajoran in particular who wore the tattered robes of a Vedek and woke him as quietly as he could. "You are with the Resistance?"

Though Harry phrased it as a question both men knew that it was a statement of fact. Among the many other fragments of information that Harry's magic had touched on was a possible way to contact them. "After I get you out of here…I'm going to need a favour".

-Flashback Ends-

2359

Joseph didn't need to know what happened on Bajor, nor did Harry think that his friend could really understand what Harry had been through. Truthfully, Harry barely understood it himself.

He didn't need to know about any of it, not the horrors of the camps or the lengths he had gone to when trying to spare the prisoners. He didn't need to know that after he had succeeded in his self-appointed task his magic had run free completely and destroyed over half the structures in the camp.

Killing every Cardassian there.

And it was all because he had made two simple miscalculations. He had forgotten about the phoenix tears in his blood and underestimated the effect of magically saturated Bajoran rock. None of which was something his kind, well-meaning and good-hearted friend needed to know or really was equipped to understand.

So instead, knowing that Joesph was expecting something, went with the other important news that he had when he had finally returned.

"They made me a full Commander after giving me the medal and said I had my choice of postings, thanks to saving my crew".

"And?" Joseph pressed, knowing there was more.

"And they wouldn't do anything about the Bajoran situation. An internal matter they said and when I protested and explained some of what I had seen…what the Cardies had done… they dug their heels in. So…I quit".

Joseph stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, struggling to understand the weight behind everything Harry had just said before his face split into a small grin.

"So… what you're say is… you need a job?" He joked.

Harry laughed for the first time in what felt like years, even as he shook his head.