Pottergate-SG1: Out of the Frying Pan

The third instalment in the Pottergate-SG1 saga. (In case you're wondering, it was never actually supposed to go past one story…)

Thanks to EmDod for beta reading this one (that's right – there'll be less spelling errors this time!)

I hope you enjoy it!

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SG-1 stood in General Dumbledore's office, a fire burning fiercely in the hearth. Harry was arguing with Dumbledore; the rest of the team, well used to the arguments, had found ways to amuse themselves – Ron was leaning against a wall, tickling a pear in the painting that hung there (the pear wasn't doing anything, but Ron seemed entertained); Hermione was rapping to Eminem on her ipod while practicing the ridiculously complex handshakes that were apparently required to participate in ethnic communication; Charlie was flexing in front of a mirror.

"General, with all due respect, not everyone's as frail as you," said Harry.

Dumbledore – a large Texan man, with about a hundred pounds on Harry – loomed menacingly.

"Pfah," said Harry. "Charlie!" he said, waving him over. "Show him how it's done."

Charlie, while reluctant to abandon his reflection, couldn't miss out on an opportunity to loom, and he hurried over. Standing tall in front of the general, he crossed his arms, stuck out his jaw, and narrowed his eyes. His muscles danced to a gentle waltz (heaven only knows where the music came from – they had tried to figure that out many times without success).

Dumbledore deflated, out-loomed, but he continued his argument, "Look, Colonel, I know you think you can handle yourselves, but the chances of a fire-fight on this mission are very high." He pointed at Grawp. "You're taking SG-3 with you, like it or not."

Grawp, who was folded about four times to fit beneath the office's low ceiling, grunted vaguely and sneezed, knocking everyone off their feet and extinguishing the fire.

"Fine," said Harry, haughtily. "Granger," he snapped, venting some of his frustration, "get that fire lit."

They stepped out from the fireplace on a far distant world, covered head to toe in soot – apparently no one put much stock in cleaning out there. They all spent several minutes trying to clean it from their clothing, but were eventually distracted by whimpering sounds from Ron.

"What?!" demanded Harry, annoyed.

Ron pointed; everyone froze. There, towering above them, stood a…a…

"Granger," said Harry, "what is that?"

She opened The Monster book of Monsters and began flipping through the pages. Ron, momentarily distracted, gaped at her. "How did…where did…" He then began examining every inch of her, trying to figure out where the book had come from.

She shoved him away, "Honestly Ronald," she said, before turning to Harry. "It's an Alpha Centauri – part horse, part planet." Sure enough, it had the body of an enormous horse, with the torso of a rather unpleasant-looking planet. It began emitting a loud whining noise, slowly increasing in volume; Harry wondered if it was about to take off.

"It's asleep," Hermione observed. "If we move quietly, we should be able to sneak past." Harry might have commented at this, but the snoring got too loud and he had to clap his hands over his ears.

The group moved out, SG-1 taking point, with SG-Grawp strolling happily along behind. Everything went fine until a sharp pain in his backside made Harry yelp – Hermione's book had apparently gotten hungry. Before anyone even had a chance to laugh, the snoring stopped and a large roar echoed down from above.

The affect on the group was instantaneous – Grawp began picking his nose, Ron stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming, Charlie absently polished his bald scalp with his sleeve, Hermione quickly rattled off all the interesting facts she could think of, and Harry grasped his scar – it wasn't hurting, but he had to look like he was doing something. In the end it was Charlie who accidentally saved the day: the sunlight reflecting off his shiny cranium blinded the creature, which stumbled off, clawing at its eyes until it knocked itself out on a mountain.

They started moving again, pointedly avoiding each other's gazes, not going in any particular direction but trusting that the writers would make sure they found something interesting.

They had been walking for quite some time when Ron spoke. "Uh, why did we bring him?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder at Grawp.

Hermione gave an over-theatrical sigh. "Don't you ever listen?" she asked. "He's here as backup."

He scowled at her. "I know that," he said, "but aside from that atlas thing Charlie KO'd back there – and he wasn't much use there – I don't see what's so dangerous about this stupid world."

Everyone froze, though Grawp took slightly longer to react than the rest and trod on Hermione. They were surrounded. All around them stood figures dressed in grey armour, pointing wands at them. One of them raised his visor. The small orange sweet glued to his forehead identified him immediately as a Jaffa.

Harry saw they were ridiculously outnumbered and dropped his wand. He then turned around, raised his hand, and smacked Ron hard on the forehead. "Every damn time! The mission's going fine, and then you go and open your big mouth!"

"He is correct, Ronald Weasley," said Charlie, making them jump – they'd forgotten he could talk. "I have observed repeated occurrences of you describing perceived flaws in the situation. In every instance this has resulted in us being placed in unreasonably desperate circumstances." He looked around at the troops that had encircled them. "I would appreciate your silence in future."

Harry started to laugh at Charlie's joke, but then Grawp, who was balanced on one foot peeling Hermione off the sole of the other, lost his balance and fell on top of them.

When he awoke, Harry found himself sitting in a forest clearing with his hands awkwardly behind his back. He looked around and found the rest of his team beside him, Grawp sitting a short distance away chewing on his toenails. In front of them stood a man in flowing black robes, the wand in his hand pointed casually at them. Harry could see the corner of a black diary sticking out of his pocket.

"Untie us!" shouted Harry, not expecting compliance, but figuring it was worth a shot.

The Goa'uld seemed surprised. "What?" he said. "I…you're not tied up…"

"That's a lie!" said Harry. He flexed his arms against their bonds, only to find there weren't any. "Oh… I…they were behind my back… I assumed…"

Their captor rolled his eyes. "This is the famous Harry Potter?" he asked no one in particular.

"Famous?" said Harry. "We work for a secret government organisation… nobody knows who we are."

"You are famous among the Death Eaters…you keep trying to kill us."

"Death Eaters?" said Ron, in a terrified voice. "You're not cannibals…are you?"

"What? Cannibals? Who…where…what's wrong with you?!" The Goa'uld's eyes were on full-beam with rage, but he took several deep breaths and managed to calm himself down. Gathering himself, he switched back to his posh English accent. "Enough of this," he enunciated, "it is time for you to die." He raised his wand.

Grawp hit him with a tree.

Harry got up and walked to the possessed man's unconscious form. Shaking his head, he bent down and retrieved four wands from a pocket. Tossing three of them to his team, he turned to the giant. "Thanks Grawp," he said, "I thought we were gon – "

Grawp hit him with the tree.

Harry crumpled.

"GRAWP!" screeched Hermione.

Grawp thrust the tree behind his back and tried to look innocent.

"Blimey," said Ron, "that brute's mental."

Grawp hit him with the tree too, though not as hard as the other two.

"OW!" yelled Ron as he picked himself up from the ground, brushing a bird's nest out of his hair. "I think he broke my nose!"

"Not to worry!" came a new voice, sounding very pleased. "I can have that fixed in a jiffy."

They turned around to find Gilderoy Lockhart standing behind them.

"What? Where the bloody hell did you come from?" demanded Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione, "you were only supposed to be in the first episode."

Lockhart looked at her and she blushed. "I know one of the writers," he said. "She agreed to get me a guest spot if I signed some autographs." He turned to Ron, "Now, about that nose…" He flicked his wand. Ron's nose flopped pathetically, the bone and cartilage gone. Nobody moved for several long moments, then, with a nervous cough, Lockhart backed away slowly until he disappeared among the trees.

"I'b goig to kib dat ban," said Ron, his speech hampered somewhat.

By the time they got back to the fireplace Harry was awake again, though he kept throwing nervous glances at Grawp. Ron bent down to light the wood that sat in the grate while the rest of them kept watch, wands at the ready.

"Come on Ron! What's taking so long?" said Harry, looking over.

"It's no use," said Ron, throwing down his matches. "The stupid wood's all wet."

Harry thought quickly. "Hermione," he said, "do you have any hair-spray with you?"

"Oh yes," said Hermione sarcastically. "I'm a girl, so of course I carry beauty products everywhere. Real nice, Harry."

"Ok, ok," said Harry. "Sorry. I'll think of something else."

"No, I have some," she said, handing it over. "I just don't like being stereotyped."

Ron stared at her. "Women!" he said.

Hermione made a rude gesture at him, but Harry ignored them and squatted down beside the fireplace, slipping his wand into a pocket. Giving the can a good shake, he struck a match and held it in front of the nozzle while he pressed down on top of it, causing a jet of flame to shoot towards the offending logs. A couple of burnt fingers later he had a roaring fire going.

"Right," he said as he stood up. "I'll just send the iris code through and we can go home." He pulled his wand out again, but before he could do anything light shimmered around them and his watch, his collar, and the ring he was wearing on his right index finger all disappeared. "What the hell?" he said.

Beside him Hermione shrieked. "My bracelet!"

"Oi! My sleeves!" shouted Ron.

"My mammillary piercing appears to have vanished," said Charlie.

"What was — wait, you have a nipple piercing?" said Harry.

"No longer," replied Charlie. "That was a Goa'uld ring transporter."

"They took my sleeves!" yelled Ron, "what the hell do they want with my sleeves?"

"The device is designed to confiscate any objects that resemble rings."

"To confiscate rings…" repeated Harry, "Why…what…rings?!"

Before Charlie could elaborate, light shimmered around them again and the landscape dissolved, to be replaced swiftly by a dimly lit room. Grawp did not appear have travelled with them, but a number of friendly-looking Jaffa were pointing wands threateningly at them.

Harry sighed heavily. "This is getting really old."

Frustration got the better of Ron. "Bombarda!" he yelled. A bolt of energy zipped just past Harry's ear and slammed into a Ming vase that was standing behind the Jaffas. The vase exploded, sending razor sharp shards flying at the soldiers, where it tinkled pleasantly on their armour.

Stunning spells slammed into each member of SG-1, rendering them unconscious. Again.

They awakened this time in what appeared to be a kitchen. A headache was beginning to form behind Harry's eyes. He was getting a little sick of unscheduled naps – though from the snores still coming from Ron, at least someone was enjoying them.

He looked over at Hermione who caught his eye. "I'm really starting to dislike this mission," she said.

"I too am finding it difficult to apply positive adjectives to this assignment," supplied Charlie, who then pulled a small tin of polish out of a pocket in his robes and got to work on his skull.

"Where are we?" Harry wondered aloud.

"It appears to be a Goa'uld childship," said Charlie, carefully buffing behind his ear.

"A childship?"

"Yes, the lack of adequate carpeting indicates that it is not fully grown. The mothership will likely be nearby."

Harry, whose head was throbbing quite insistently now, decided he just didn't care. He pulled a chocolate bar out of his pocket and began munching on it.

Presently, the Death Eater they had escaped from earlier entered the room. Three members of SG-1 turned their attention to him immediately, but Ron merely gave an extra loud snore and shifted slightly. Harry jabbed him in the ribs with his wand.

"Whozawuzzat?" said Ron, groggy with sleep. He looked up and saw the Death Eater glaring at him. Rolling his eyes he said, "You woke me up for that?"

"Silence fool!" commanded the Goa'uld. "You – "

Ron interrupted him. "'Silence fool'? Come on mate, even for you guys that's pretty lame."

The Goa'uld snapped his fingers. Two Jaffa entered the room, one carrying a bottle of fire-whiskey, the other carrying some shot glasses. They placed them on a nearby table and left the room.

"This," the Death Eater said, indicating the bottle, "is known as a Zat'nik'tel. One shot will cause you unbearable pain … a second shot will kill you. If you interrupt me again, you shall feel it first-hand."

Ron raised his eye-brows, keen to try some, but a harsh glare from Hermione subdued him.

"Now," said the Death Eater, "I know who you are. I know why you're here. What I don't know is why you thought you would get away with it. Your arrogance knows no bounds, but you will not walk away this time. I – "

He was interrupted again, this time by the roar of flames – the drapes above a nearby stove had caught fire thanks to some bacon left in the frying pan, and were burning fiercely.

The Goa'uld gave a high-pitched squeal and fled the room.

Moving quickly, Harry grabbed their wands from the table and passed them out. As an after-thought, he grabbed the fire-whiskey and a shot glass as well, then ran to the door and checked the corridor for hostiles. The rest of SG-1 took up positions to either side of him, except for Ron who was scraping the bacon – rather blackened – from the pan.

"Ron!" shrieked Hermione. He reluctantly abandoned his dinner.

They emerged from the room into an empty corridor and raced down it, looking for a way out. Partway down, a Jaffa came out of a side-door and tried to stop them. Harry quickly poured a glass of whiskey and tipped it down the man's throat. The soldier collapsed, screaming in agony, and SG-1 took off again.

Eventually they ended up in a large room with a floral pattern in the centre of the floor. The walls were very pink.

"This is the vessel's transportation facility," said Charlie.

"It's very …" said Hermione vaguely, gazing around.

"Pink" supplied Ron and Harry.

"Yes, this vessel appears to female."

"I'll say … Blimey."

Charlie moved towards a suit of armour that stood against the wall and began manipulating its pose. Ron moved over to a silver box that hovered in mid air near the floral pattern. It had a large black square covering most of the front face, and a pair of long silver spikes sticking out of the top.

"Charlie," he said, "what's this thing?"

Charlie looked over. "That is a Goa'uld long range communications device, somewhat like your television only much further advanced."

"Uh, Charlie," said Harry, "that is a television."

Charlie shrugged and turned back to the armour. When he finished arranging it, it was in a ballerina pose – including tutu.

"We must now position ourselves on the floral design," said Charlie. They did so, and after a flash of light they found themselves back down on the planet, a short distance from the fireplace.

Far above them, a large fireball was streaking down from the sky.

"Quick, get that fire started!" Harry yelled to Ron.

After a couple of attempts, the fire flared up in the grate.

"Ok, everyone stand back and I'll send through the iris code."

Ron moved back from the fireplace, and Harry raised his wand. "Expecto patronum!" he cried, and a silvery stag charged into the fire. "Right!" he said, "Everybody in!"

They all piled in a heap in Dumbledore's office. Slowly they picked themselves up to reveal a crumpled body beneath them.

"General Dumbledore!" shrieked Hermione, horrified. She quickly helped him to his feet.

Dumbledore, looking decidedly ruffled, asked, "Did you get it?"

Harry shook his head, "Sorry sir, the Goa'uld were everywhere."

Dumbledore's eyes travelled over the group. "Where is SG-3?" he asked.

A horrible feeling settled in Harry's stomach – he had forgotten about Grawp. "I…" he began, but was saved by the arrival of Grawp's massive form tumbling through the fireplace, landing squarely on top of Dumbledore.

SG-1 took Dumbledore's muffled screams as a dismissal and went to find some food.

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---The End---
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