Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!

Posted March 30, 2012.

-CHAPTER 2-

SOMEONE TO SAVE

Given Harry had already been sitting on the floor of the cell, he was still sitting when the black smoke cleared. The confines of the cell were gone, replaced with what looked like a long tunnel, with room for maybe three abreast to pass at best. The sides had some sort of shiny material on them, and in several places, bundles of wires and piping. It was almost dark, with only a few lights illuminating the rather dark conduit. Worse, the air was incredibly thin. Harry drew the wand he'd been given with the package, and quickly cast a bubble-face charm—he was already starting to feel a little light-headed.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a loud CLUNK sound, and almost immediately, the air started swirling around him, getting stronger by the second. Instinct told him whatever was happening likely wouldn't do anything good for his health. A strong barrier charm was snapped into place across one of the dividing partitions, stopping the flow of air.

"Bloody hell," He muttered to himself, as the lights seemed to dim again, darkening the place even more than it already was. "Lumos," he commanded, and a strong light lit from the end of his wand. "Right. Not healthy." Holding his wand with his teeth, he pulled out the hourglass device. Wherever he'd landed, it wasn't safe. Not by a long shot. He attempted to twist the knob again, but found it locked in place. Instead, the device had turned a green shade, with the sand flowing steadily from the top into the bottom. 'It's timing something. What? How long?'

'4:06' appeared above the hourglass. So, something was going to happen in four minutes' time.

Harry stood up, allowing his body to adjust to being vertical again. He tended not to stand very much, there was no need, really. At least not that often. Now, it was necessary, if he wanted to figure out where he was. His mind was still hazy, much like his eyes, but he felt for his glasses—there they were. It was surprising the guards allowed him to keep them, and now that was a good thing. He slipped them on, and the world came back into focus. Next question. Was anyone around? He cancelled the light spell, then intoned, "Homenum revelio."

The spell revealed a single shade a distance down the corridor, the direction opposite where he'd had to throw up a hasty shield to keep from losing the faint atmosphere they had. Perhaps... no, it can't be. The only way to be sure, then, he realized. He set off to find the lone individual marked by the spell, the shade going dimmer the closer he got.

A hatch off the corridor led to a small room, with a large pool of some sort in the middle of it. Harry visually shivered, feeling the temperature drop to near-freezing. It actually reminded him of the approach of a Dementor, and he caught himself about to do a mad turn to make sure that wasn't the case.

Harry's heart sank, as he spotted the target of his spell from less than a minute earlier, illuminated faintly by what little light still remained. He was half-submerged in the pool, not moving, a tool gripped in his right hand. The water was actually forming into ice in some places, and Harry again shivered at the thought. It looked like the man had frozen to death, likely trying to fix whatever was in the pool. "Homenum revelio," Harry intoned, just to make sure.

Luck was with him, as the guy gave off a very faint purple shade. He was still alive, if only barely. A swish and a flick. "Wingardium leviosa." The injured man was lifted out of the tank, sloshing icy water in all directions. Holding the spell, he guided the injured man out of the room, and out into the slightly better-lit tunnel, and pulled the hatchway door closed.

"Merlin's pants," Harry swore, as he at last cancelled the charm. He just barely caught the guy's head before he hit the floor, and he was forced to his knees, feeling a strong bout of vertigo. Casting that charm had taken a lot out of him, and added even more evidence to his suspicions as to where he was.

Turning his attention back to the unconscious man, it was then he noticed the splotch of blood on his right pant leg. The guy also felt like a block of ice. What had nearly killed him, had in a way given him a chance. The guy was actually quite good looking, now that Harry got a good look at him. He had short-cropped hair, and sideburns which ran down to the bottom of his ears. He had a days' growth on his face. He was muscular, the soaked clothes barely containing his frame. Harry mentally shivered at the wild thoughts which raced through his mind, and quickly quelled them. After all, there were more pressing issues at the moment.

Another gesture of Harry's wand, and a gentle warming charm was cast. He was again alarmed to feel the magic being tapped from him. His core was incredibly weak from his incarceration, that much was clear. Still, there was no choice. He would likely pass out, but Harry needed answers, and that wouldn't come with the guy dead. He turned his attention to the injured leg, seeing the guy was breathing on his own, if a little shallow.

That would have to do. The bones had been reset the best he could, but the injury still looked angry and swollen. There wasn't a lot he could do at this point—after all, he did only have a fifth year education, magic-wise. He was not a healer, and so would need to seek out someone who was... sooner rather than later.

That raised the next question. Where did he go from there? Back to England? Yeah, right. They'd lock him right back up in Azkaban, and he'd be no further ahead than he'd been only a few minutes ago. At least here and now, he could at least plan out his next course of action.

He looked back down at the injured man. His breathing was becoming much more steady. The warming charm was helping out, exactly as it should, and so he leaned over and cast another. His world went dark, and he slumped across the chest of the stranger. At exactly that moment, the hourglass-like device in Harry's tattered robes vibrated once. If either of them had been conscious, they would have been bathed in a terrific bright blue light, as the device acted like a port key, carrying two men, and one crippled spacecraft across the expanse of space.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The last things James Mace(1) remembered clearly, was the pain of his leg getting caught between the mainframe rack and the framework in the cooling tank, and shouting for Capa to 'finish it.' His fading consciousness barely registered Capa going past, hopefully toward the payload. It was all up to Capa now, the passenger on the mission, but the most critical human part. Without him, there was no bomb. As much as he'd goaded the younger man, harassed him, sometimes fought with him, there was the underlying respect of his part of the mission—and perhaps a little more. They all had their parts to play. Mace had played his, now resigned to his fate, feeling the life being sapped out of him by the beyond-frigid water required for Icarus to function. With only half the racks in the tank, only a few things were working—at least that included some of the lights.

Sometime later, he began to regain consciousness, and with that, came the throbbing pain around his right leg. He shivered involuntarily, as another issue reared its ugly head. It was then he realized he wasn't alone. Someone was draped across him, seemingly also unconscious. Mace dared lift his head, and was somewhere between startled and confused at the individual who had him pinned at this point.

The man was dirty, as if he'd not had a shower in months. Long, stringy, dark hair was matted around his head, and his clothes were a tattered mess. He reeked of –no, he smelled of death. That was the best description. He'd seen homeless folk in better shape! The important question: how'd he get here? Had he pulled him out of the coolant tank? If so... whoever this person was, Mace owed him big time.

He used his elbows to push himself up into a sitting position, letting the individual slide down a bit, and he let out another involuntary shiver. He was still freezing from trying to fix the mainframe. A long, hot shower would do wonders about now, but his throbbing right leg told him all he needed to know. He wouldn't be going anywhere without help.

His mind drifted back to the mission. Had Capa managed to trigger the stellar bomb? He mentally cursed himself. No, unlikely. Had he been able to do so, the Icarus II would have been incinerated. With no computer to correct its orbit, the ship would have been exposed to the deadly heat of the sun within minutes. They still might be, come to think of it. He cursed again in his head. Their mission had failed, and whoever this was out cold across his lap had only delayed the inevitable. Saved from freezing, only to be roasted alive. Now that's a bad day, he snorted in his head.

Mace dared reach down and jostle the stranger on the shoulder. The man let out a moan, turned his head, and opened his eyes—a startling emerald green shade, which seemed to pierce right through him from behind a pair of old, round-rimmed glasses. It was unsettling considering the appearance of the individual they belonged to.

"You... okay?"

"Y-yeah," the stranger spoke, pushing himself up to a kneeling position. He slipped a short stick into the pockets of his tattered clothes—they appeared to be a dress of some sort. No, that can't be right.

"You... you pulled me out of the coolant tank."

"Yes." A fleeting smile crossed the man's face, but it was gone quick as it had appeared. "I found you... well... shortly after I got here. Where is 'here' anyway?"

"The Icarus II. How did you get here? Not that it really matters. We're probably gonna be incinerated by the sun any second now."

"Sorry?"

"It's why we're here." Mace let out another involuntary shiver, still feeling the effects of hypothermia. The stranger noticed this, and produced the stick again.

"This should help... hopefully I won't pass out again, but..." He gestured at Mace, whispering something under his breath. Mace felt the effect at once, as if he'd been given a hot bath. "And..." another gesture from the stick, and he was completely dry.

"What... what are you?"

"A human being, although I sure as hell don't feel like one just now. God, I must look of fright. But I'm Harry."

"Mace." The pair shook hands, and Harry gestured at himself once. The dirt seemed to vanish. Harry gave a momentary grin, but said, "Can't do anything about the robes. They need to be burned at the earliest opportunity. Azkaban does that to someone."

"Azkaban? Where's that?"

"A place you wouldn't want to experience. How... how do you feel now?"

"Better, but my leg's pretty fucked up still."

"I'm sorry. I did the best I could, it was much worse when I found you."

"Thanks… feels more like it's been sprained than busted… better one than the other. What's that on your face?"

"Right. Here." Harry gestured again with his wand, and a small bubble covered Mace's nose and mouth. "Right useful. A… a friend taught me how to cast it a few years ago." Mace saw Harry's features darken a moment.

"Can you get up?"

"I think so. Being… not on Earth, makes casting magic difficult. It's why I blacked out. But…" Harry lifted himself to his feet, then helped Mace off the floor. It was an awkward process which provided more than a fair dose of pain for the man.

"Best thing now, help me back to my sleeping compartment."

"Where to then?"

"This way." The pair turned around, and started off. "What's that?" Mace pointed to the shimmering barrier a ways ahead of them.

"When I landed here, or just after… it was like the air was being sucked out of here. I put up a shield to stop it."

"Fuck… life saver, again. Capa must've gotten into the payload then. But…" Mace had to think a moment. Why would he have… unless… unless the payload had already detached from the Icarus II. It would've meant a 'Hail Mary' jump across the gap, and naturally, the decompression of the entire ship. His new friend had saved his life twice. Unfortunately, the magical shield, or whatever Harry had constructed, now blocked the way to the common area. Then again, with little electricity, none of the ovens nor the stove would work. And fixing the mainframe? Out of the question. He'd caught a glimpse of the two racks still half-raised out of the tank, and both were about as fucked as the ones on the Icarus I were. Icarus had been silenced for good.

"In here," said Mace, guiding Harry through a side hatchway. The short corridor led them into what resembled a pod, with four frosted windows opposing one another. They crossed the floor, and Mace touched one of the windows with a free hand. It instantly un-frosted, and Harry had to smirk. "Just like magic," He grinned. Mace only shook his head, and they stepped into the small compartment.

There was a bed built into the back wall, with plenty of drawers and cupboards covering the spaces around.

"Not enough room to swing a kneazle," said Harry, as he helped Mace sit on his bed.

"Not enough room to swing a cat, you mean. And no, not much room. Just chuck that stuff on the floor." Mace pointed to the pile of papers on the small stool. "Wait. Toss me that jacket."

Harry did as asked. "You're still cold."

"Whatever you did to me sure as hell helped, but yeah." He slipped the jacket on—Harry noticed it matched his pants, likely a uniform, then. "Capa's stuff will probably fit you. His compartment's across from mine."

Harry looked down at himself, and gave a stiff nod. As much as it didn't feel right, taking the clothes of a dead man, it would be better than running about in robes that were ruined. A nice hot shower would do about then as well, but at this point, he might be pushing things. He crossed the pod, and opened up the opposite compartment.

It took him several minutes before he located the guy's clothes, neatly folded in a drawer built in under the bed. Of course, that would make perfect sense, he realized, as he pulled the door closed. The glass instantly frosted over, giving him the privacy he needed. He quickly changed, and pocketed all the items out of his ruined robes. He left them on the floor, and exited the compartment.

"Now that I feel somewhat human again. This is so messed up," said Harry, taking a seat on the small stool. Mace had stretched out on his bed, stuffed one of the pillows under his still-injured leg, and folded his hands across his stomach. Harry frowned at this, knowing he was unable to further help his new friend. That sort of injury was beyond what he knew.

"How long does this... um... bubble last?"

"Until it's dispelled."

"Good. One problem dealt with. Bigger issue, we need to get into storage and bring out some MREs. You can... heat stuff up, right?"

"Yeah, of course. What's an MRE?"

"Meals, ready to eat. It's a military field ration. Used when there's nothing close by. The shit's not bad, but it's not great either. But it's better than nothing at all."

"And water?"

"With just us, a few months. After that... I hope you can do a lot more shit with that stick of yours, 'cause really, we're fucked. That's if the cold doesn't get us first."

"Why?"

"The computer controlled the heat. Fuck, it's already cooled off a bit, that's just in the few hours since... since you got here."

"Well, I can cast warming charms."

"Against the minus two-hundred and seventy-five Celsius temperature outside?"

"A heating charm might help, but the bigger issue is my magical reserves. You have any chocolate on board?"

"Gone a long time ago."

"Shit. What about cocoa?"

"Maybe. Why chocolate?"

"It helps boost a witch or wizard's magical reserves. No one ever told me why, but that's how it works," answered Harry, with a shrug.

"How did you get here anyway?"

"This thing." Harry pulled the hourglass out of his pocket. It looked rather ordinary at that point.

"You're fucking with me."

"I swear it. It's some sort of magical artifact that... it seems to have exchanged one prison for another. Although." Harry got up and sat on the bed. "Put a hand on mine... great. Gonna give this another go." Harry used his free hand to try and twist the knob on the top. He was disappointed when it wouldn't move. "Fuck."

Mace put his hand back across his stomach. "So it just... teleports you places?"

"I think so. I know... you probably think I'm off my nut, just... trusting something. But anywhere was better than where I was. Fucking Wizengamot... learned nothing from the last time they sent an innocent man to Azkaban," Harry muttered, "'course, they actually held a trial this time around... dragged all my so-called friends in to testify and demonstrate how evil and wicked I am... FOOLS, the lot of them!"

"What... what did..."

"What did they convict me of? Murdering a classmate. But see, rather than actually ask my side of the story, they put their blinders on, see what they want to see. 'course, I know who really killed the kid... she'll answer for it eventually. Says I can't cast unforgivables... wait and see, Belletrix, my dear." Mace involuntarily shivered, and it was nothing to do with him suffering the after-effects of hypothermia. The guy sitting on the edge of his bed had been wronged in no small way, and it was clear he had many axes to grind. He dared reach up, and put a hand on the smaller guy's shoulder in an offer of support. He was rewarded with a brief smile, although his eyes were watery with un-shed tears.

Harry removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of the borrowed jacket. "F-f-four years. They had me locked up for four years. Until... until this morning, when this thing showed up." He gestured to the hourglass. "It was an opportunity and I took it... even if it means I die here. At least I die with a friend at my side, instead of being surrounded by monsters."

Sometime later, both of them realized food would have to be gotten out of the storage at the other end of the ship. It was certainly still within the atmosphere of the ship, but the distance they had to travel made it exhausting, and painful. Harry knew he'd not completely healed the fracture, and even the casting of additional healing charms had not had much of an effect. Therefore, every step was excruciatingly painful for Mace, and outright awkward for Harry, given he was easily a head shorter. Both were near collapse from exhaustion, by the time they reached the correct module.

The particular module they were in featured a large number of containers, each exactly the same size. All were labelled with a basic description of their contents.

"Here. This one," said Mace, wearily. Harry drew his wand, and levitated the container off the stack. The label simply read, "Emg. Rations, MRE"

"We'll take the whole container, save us from coming back here any time soon. Anything else we could use?"

"How?"

"Like this." Harry made a gesture with his wand, muttering two words which Mace could not make out. The container instantly compressed in size, to that of a pack of playing cards.

"Jesus Christ."

"Now. Anything else, before we have to make the dreaded trip back to your compartment?"

"That box... you wanted cocoa, right?"

"Yeah..." Harry summoned the box, and Mace helped him with the lid.

"Great, we're in business," said Harry, quickly spotting the labelled container inside. "Oh... what do we have here?" A large box of tea and another with instant coffee.

"Long as you don't mind doing laps on the ceiling of the compartment," said Mace, with a smirk. That earned him a smirk right back.

"Seriously, though. It'll help keep up my magical reserves," and then mostly to himself, "and keep me awake so I don't face Cedric... or Sirius... or deal with Voldemort..."

They ended up making a small detour on the way back to the sleeping compartment, so Mace could show Harry where the washroom and the shower was. Naturally, both took the opportunity to deal with some business before they pressed on.

The amount of effort it took to get to the storage module and back proved to be too much, and both succumbed to the darkness, crashed out on Mace's bed, rather awkwardly.

AUTHOR NOTES: (1) I think this is correct, from the screen grabs I took (I have the blu-ray). Sunshine fans out there: you know his real name, give me a shout so I can fix this.