AN: I hope this version has the proper formatting! I don't understand why it puts the entire chapter in bold when I paste it from Google Docs...help anyone? Comment or PM me if you know how to avoid that, please.
One day, I'll never have to edit something FOUR times thanks to this clunky interface and how it doesn't always work on a Library computer!
It was a relatively quiet night, in the streets of London. Some of its suburbs had decorations aplenty of ghouls, goblins, vampire bats, and more. The residents of these neighborhoods would not suspect a stranger thing to happen, than a child running around and collecting candy. Some parents would love to see less of the running, and more of the idea of eating healthier foods.
Tonight, a young boy was orphaned. Another young man, well, a being to more precise, observed from a distance. He felt pity for the child. Having been all over the galaxy, he had seen and done many things as a member of the Continuum. Having learned a few things from his loving parents, Q and Mrs. Q, Q Jr. felt this young child's life would have to be changed. He could have just returned his parents to life, and banished the pitiful existence of their killer to some distant planet, yet, a power even greater than his prevented it.
Faced with a dilemma, Q Jr. came to a decision that some would question. Others would rejoice. A small handful would lament, while two would feel sorrow.
Watching the old man with too many names leave a letter in the small hands of Harry James Potter, Q Jr. chose to act. Moments after Albus 'I know best because I am ME' Dumbledore and the woman who could make herself a cat and the giant of a man that needed to shave his beard left the street named Privet Drive, Q Jr. with a snap of his fingers sent Harry James Potter to a new place. In addition to sending him to this new place, Q Jr. also was magnanimous enough to include a large crate full of PADDs, each containing well over three hundred full copies of the text and other images stored in the books of the Wizarding World. In addition to these PADDs, a large collection of wand cores and wand woods were stored, as Q Jr. knew the boy would need a wand someday. He wanted to save the child from Fate, yet was not able to intervene in the destiny of the boy. He could alter a few things, such as where he was placed, and grew up with, but not his prophesied destiny. While the authors of said books may have thought they couldn't carry over some of the magic, or be copied without permission, such things were beneath a Q. A Q could do anything they wanted to, almost. Bring back the dead? Unless a higher power said no, they could say yes. Change the gravitational constant of the universe? Wipe out an entire civilization? Yes, these and more are possible for a Q.
The Wizarding World would recover, in time.
The Q Continuum would carry on, doing what they felt like doing, and feeling like they were all important, and not subject to anything higher than them.
Harry James Potter and his status as the Boy-Who-Lived would forever be altered after a single snap of the fingers Q Jr. took human form in. Oh, some beings have more power than a Q could ever hope to wield. And some were never meant to have that much power. One man would never understand the price he paid for seeking that power.
\\U.S.S. Voyager, Stardate Unknown; Earthdate: Unknown\\
Seven of Nine, former Borg Drone, was regenerating in her alcove in the cargo bay, when a small baby and a crate full of PADDs, wand cores, and wand woods were instantly placed directly in front of her alcove. Under normal circumstances, the Computer would automatically send an alert about an intruder, however, this time, Q Jr. told the ship computer to remain quiet about the arrival. Babies need their sleep after all. The letter originally penned by The Great Albus Dumbledore was changed slightly, to include a few things not germane to anything really important.
Okay, we can go into a few of them here, don't worry.
"...blah blah blah, something about a Dark Wizard, blah blah blah, something about followers, something about protection, blah blah blah…"
Oh, naturally, one reading this might want to see the full letter. Well, patience is a virtue. Keep reading to find it. It is there, just look for it. Not there, you, you nathering bumbling bag of bones and meat, with strange fluids! Get out of my space!
"...grrhk…"
Sounds of a scuffle ensue, and the scene changes to a pleasant, neutral, and warm one. Ignore the fuzzy three headed rabbit that would make Andre the Giant seem like a toothpick, and just Keep Calm, and Carry On.
Phew, the author wishes to continue without this strange persona who took over for a moment. That persona is correct, please keep reading to find the letter.
All right then.
\\Hogwarts School of Magical Beings (Because really, why should there be a distinction of Wizardry and Witchery? Is there a field of magic that can only be performed by one or the other? Were the Founders Sexist? We may never know.) Oh, look, a bouncing Ferret! "Mr. Malfoy! Change back to being human at once! You've not been sorted yet, and are still a toddler at this point!" Minerva McGonagall shouted. Really, someone should not mess with events out of chronological order. Where were we? Ah, yes, the Headmaster's Office\\
Mere minutes after leaving Privet Drive, Albus Dumbledore returned to his office, expecting to see some of the newly enchanted baubles doing a fine job of displaying various things: Harry being fed a decent amount of food? Harry getting praised for getting a good score on a math test? Harry getting a hug at least once per day? Harry being told he is a good boy, who is as fine an example of human being as his cousin is? Harry sleeping in a deluxe bed fit for a prince? Harry getting to learn all about what a loving family is like? Harry being told he is never going to be without the Love he so naturally deserved? Harry getting told how great Albus Dumbledore was, and how awesome it would be to allow Albus Dumbledore to manage his wealth? Harry getting his first ever schoolyard crush? Harry….wait, some of these monitors don't belong here. Out, damn random silly ideas! (Out, damn spot!)
Hmm, some of those may have never done anything to indicate change from a dormant state to an active state if we were still in the original universe, as written by the great Ms. Rowling.
Looking over at the gloriously crafted one of a kind side table, Albus Dumbledore paled for a brief moment. All of his little monitors and doodads and baubles that he had charmed tied to various things relating to a little boy named Harry James Potter, save one, were showing the appearance of melted slag. Blast! He personally crafted over 50 figurines, charmed and runed them to animate, and all but the one monitoring Mr. Potter's health were looking more like a miniature dragon had gone on a melting spree with them!
Fearing the worst, he gathered some choice magical aids. Some bizarre tomes he never thought would have to leave the safety of his office. Some rather colorful robes to change into, as he just HAD to look the part of an eccentric wizard. Plain and ordinary were not for him. Thinking quickly, he summoned his resident bat, erm, Junior Professor of Potions. Severus Snape was skilled in many areas such as brewing potions, holding a grudge, pining after a woman who should never have given him the time of day, avoiding proper hair care as if it was the appearance of the Four Horsemen, and more things we don't need to discuss here. Teaching students? Well, Albus thought it would be a swell experience for the many young impressionable minds to be exposed to a man of Snape's skill.
Oh, yes, what would Severus Snape do in this quest? Nothing. The patronus messenger Albus had tried to send returned with a rather bizarre look. The ethereal phoenix looked like it was constipated, or had suffered from some of the culinary skills of, He-Who-Cooked-a-Dish-With-Real-Hair-From-a-Real-Person's-Head. Instead of saying what the Headmaster meant to say "Severus, I am in need of your assistance, please be ready to travel with me in five minutes.", it instead, using Albus' own voice, said this: "Message not deliverable. Recipient is dead. Thank you for using a mighty spell meant for driving back Lethifolds and Dementors to send messages. What a waste of your magic!" and then exploded in a shower of sparks and with a clang of several mighty cymbals and drums. Really, there was almost an entire orchestra playing almost the entire length of a famous funeral dirge as the patronus animal exploded in numerous little wisps of light.
Severus Snape, dead? How? The wards should have notified him. How or why would he, the Great Albus Dumbledore, not have known immediately if his pet bat, erm, Junior Potions Professor, had died? There was nothing for it, Albus had to make a trip down to the Dungeons.
\\Hogwarts Potions Classroom, lair of the Greasy Haired Bat\\
Okay, despite the above reply made by the Patronus turned critic of the use of noble magic, it wasn't being entirely truthful. Severus Tobias Snape wasn't dead, just in a mood he really didn't like. His love, well, the woman he loved and never wanted to see go to James Potter of all people, was gone. Gone to the madman he had blindly chosen to serve, fresh from the last few years of watching Lily Evans become besotted with that arrogant snob, James Potter. So the man had pulled Severus back from getting mauled by a werewolf. Big, Merlin-be-Damned Deal. In his worldview, Lily Evans should never have given James Potter the time of day. Yes, he believed, as did many others, that magic was a gift, and should only be wielded by those that deserve it. The derogatory slur of mudblood was an accident, and not his true feelings towards Lily. Yet, for the rest of their time at Hogwarts, there was nothing he could do short of using Dark Arts to earn her favor back. She had fallen for the oaf, may he NOT rest in peace, and ended up marrying him. To say one was upset at losing the angel of beauty Lily was to a man like James Potter, well…now there was no use in crying over spilled potion. Severus could move on, with time. For now, he was so deep into a case of Firewhiskey, he set a really advanced ward on his chambers to block out anything short of Mother Nature from bothering him.
He had run to Albus Dumbledore to plead for mercy, to turncoat from the side following that fool Riddle. Having asked his 'Lord' to spare Lily, wanting her for himself, and thinking nothing of James or their son Harry, he was so shocked that nothing of Halloween 1981 would ever make sense to him.
\\Corridor outside Potions Lair of the Greasy Bat\\
Albus arrived with great haste to check on his Junior Potions Professor. Fearing the worst, he began to cast some magic when he encountered a rather obscure ward. This ward was almost forgotten to time, as none of the past 15 years of students could have found it referenced in the school Library. He had made sincere efforts to encourage the Ministry to ban printing and sales of any books that referenced the ward, as it would prevent any and all forms of communication, transportation, or summoning of anyone inside the ward. Unfortunately for the Headmaster, he neglected to account for a force of nature, one Lily Evans. She had made it a mission to travel to other countries in the middle of summer between her Fourth and Fifth Years, in order to expand her knowledge. Her parents were more than happy to finance the trip, and the collection of books and tomes from other magical markets.
Before That Day, when one of her closest friends used that hateful word, she had loaned a certain book to Severus Snape, as he was interested in a rather powerful ward that could be used to hide someone from anyone looking. While the Fidelius was the prime choice for many, it required a powerful spell to be cast, with the literal soul of a person storing the secret. If that Secret Keeper died or was forced to reveal the Secret under extreme duress, then the place the Fiedlius hid was not as well protected. This ward allowed for a person to hide in such a way so that nothing magical could find them, and would make most identifying spells consider the person dead. It had a drawback though. As long as the ward was up, no one inside it could leave the boundary.
Feeling the presence of a type of ward that should not be allowed to be learned anywhere, according to his own views on magic, Albus Dumbledore frowned. The only way his Junior Potions Professor could have learned it was through an unsanctioned trip somewhere outside of the influence of Great Britain. This would need to be addressed at some time. For now, he simply used his wand to knock on the outer door leading to the chambers within. While the ward was not able to stay up for a long time, as long as the caster wanted it to, it would stay up. Once they didn't feel like hiding from the world, it fell on its own.
Inside the room, Severus Snape was dry crying. He had a face only a mother could love, and, due to his rash actions, one mother in particular would never be able to shower him with that love. That she was dead because of another man betraying the Secret wasn't common knowledge. If Severus Snape knew that his fellow Death Eater Peter Pettigrew was the one to lead Voldemort to kill Lily, there would be a dead rat at the Potion Master's hands.
Hearing the magical knock, he collected himself. While he had not yet fully mastered the art of Occlumency, he was no novice. Collecting himself, and using his wand to cast a quick cleaning charm to make it look like he was a normal, everyday wizard, Severus Snape prepared to face his visitor. He knew it could only be Albus, as the knock was a telltale signature. 'Time to face the music now. What does he need now, the old fool?' he thought to himself.
Taking down the ward, he went to open his door.
"Yes, Headmaster, how may I help you tonight?"
"Severus, I am ashamed of your use of a forbidden ward. I insist you stop using it while you remain a guest of this castle."
"Forbidden? How? It harms no one, will fall on its own based on my mind's state of being, and only costs a little blood and time to set up. The last time I checked, it was not on a banned list with the Ministry."
"As long as I am Headmaster of this School, you will not use it ever again! I thought you were dead! I tried to send a Patronus to you asking for your assistance, and it returned saying that you had died somehow!"
"Clearly, I am not dead. Have you not a life stone tied to each professor here at Hogwarts, right in the top drawer of your desk? Wouldn't it have buzzed like a Muggle restaurant beeper? You recruited me to your side, and I vowed to stay loyal to the Light, for as long as I can to atone for my blunder in delivering part of the Prophecy. If I wish to use a ward to seek solace, I will. If you feel you can find another Potions Master so soon, then feel free to uninvite me. I have no love of teaching, yet this is the task you gave me. Either accept it, or move on. What do you need my help with at this late hour? Surely you understand the grief I still feel over Lily's death?"
"I will grant you tonight as a warning. There are reasons why I don't want that ward even referenced in any part of Great Britain, as it can lead to a person actually dying and no one would be any wiser. As to your life stone, it wouldn't know until the ward came down. What if you did die, and the ward remained up powered by the castle until someone came along to check on you? And what of James, or their son, Harry? Have you no remorse for the loss of James Potter, or the orphaning of Harry? Keep this in mind: the past should stay in the past. James saved your life, and you owed him a Life Debt. That Life Debt is now in the care of Harry James Potter. If you expect to continue to be under the care of this castle and its safety, you will remember this. I can find another Potions Master to teach, if you wish. Give me some time, and I'll make every effort to accommodate you. For as long as you seek succor with me, you will abide by my rules, is that clear?"
"Yes, Headmaster. I apologize for the use of the ward. I will try to only use a strong Notice-Me-Not from now on. You mentioned you need my help?" Inside, Severus was seething. How foolish did he have to be? First, he pledged his service foolishly to a madman, and was branded by that madman. Then, he heard part of a prophecy and rushed to tell his master. Asking his master to spare Lily, thinking he was in a position to be granted the request, only to find out Lily died. Now, he was in service to another master, this one, while not at all one to use Cruciatus Curses as if handing out candy, was still harsh in some ways. Oh, to be free of both, to pursue the noble art of brewing Potions. Or to devote his life to bringing Lily back.
"Yes, the boy, young Harry, was only in the past hour placed on the front porch of his Muggle relatives. As Harry has no living magical relatives on the Potter side, it was the best option. I used a lock of his hair and some of his blood to tie some monitoring instruments to keep an eye on him from a distance. After tonight, he would have been famous for something he had no part of. I got back to my office to find all but one of those monitors destroyed. I need someone who knows the Dark Arts, as I haven't used them before, to help me look over the house, to see what happened."
"Muggle relatives? Not that Petunia and her fat husband, Vernon? Are you insane? They would never be suitable! You've gone barmy, old man."
"They were the only option I had. If he was raised in a wizard home, some of the Death Eaters could get to him, and influence him–"
"You mean, convince him to put the Potter wealth to their cause, making your side weaker?" Severus spat.
"Let us not split hairs here. I made a choice based on what I felt was best for the boy. I have been around longer than you and all of your class were alive when you were a first year, in case you forgot."
"Of course not, Headmaster. Forgive me for speaking my mind. Are you sure the boy is still alive?"
"That is the one monitor that is still functioning. I must go quickly, in case I have to reassess my plans to protect the boy."
"Why didn't you just keep him here, under a Fidelius? I'm sure one of your more senior staff members could keep the secret?"
"Obviously, one Secret Keeper was coerced to give up a Secret entrusted to them. I shan't risk another person being lured to give up the whereabouts of Harry."
"Who was the Secret Keeper, Albus?"
"It was Sirius Black."
Severus scoffed. "Black? Wow! For him to betray the Potters is asinine! He was like a brother to James! Where is he now, I'd like to introduce him to a few special potions of mine."
Of course, dear readers, the TRUE Secret Keeper for the Potters was Peter Pettigrew. Between James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, they thought that using Polyjuice and a very strong identity Confundus on Albus would make the plan foolproof. Albus had never known that he was duped, and Magic takes into account the actual person's identity, not who they look like nor who they are pretending to be.
"That can wait. Right now, I need to get back to the Dursley residence, and scan for signs of Dark Magic. I need your expertise on this matter. Please do this for Lily, and her son. As for your teaching post, I'll give you two years to acclimate to being a professor. If you still don't want to be here, I'll aim to have a new Potions Master before the end of your second year here as a professor."
"Very well. Let's go, Headmaster. I'm ready."
Fawkes chose that moment to fly in from somewhere, and do what Phoenix do.
The two were then Phoenix-flame transported to a spot hidden in a small park, where a large bunch of thick tree branches had curiously formed into a perfect Blind. It wasn't for hunting, or for spying on a civilization of beings another group wanted to study. It was merely a nice place to appear by magic, without Muggles noticing.
Walking out of the park, towards the finely manicured lawns of Privet Drive, Severus and Albus made their way to Number 4. What they found was something that can't truly be put into words. Or song, for that matter. The entire house was gone. It was as if someone had taken the world's largest eraser to a three dimensional painting of the street. Everything from power lines, water conduits, gas lines, telephone lines, to even the foundations were gone. Numbers 5 and 3 were still there, complete and intact. Number 4 in its entirety was simply gone. No trace was left. No grass in the backyard. No garage to store a mountain of boxes. No hedges to hide a House Elf in the future. No fancy car. No Dursleys at all. Also, there was no trace of the only child of Lily and James Potter.
The neighborhood was quiet, it being almost 1am. No more children were running around begging for treats, dressed in costumes ranging from a mermaid to a fireman, to a sand monster, to a doctor, to a traveling salesman trying to sell you a complete encyclopedia set that one Mr. and Mrs. Granger would have been thrilled to buy to provide for their daughter, someday.
Taking out his wand, Albus began to check the gaping hole in the neighborhood, and frowned. Nothing in the first dozen or so spells gave a result as to what happened to the house. Severus was having no luck, either. His spells were as fruitful as the mass of people who believed the general consensus that the earth was the center of the universe. As successful as the notion of a species made in the image of its Creator being capable of totally changing their gender at will. That is to say, impossible. Severus was getting nothing from his own spells, and decided to give up. If none of his first dozen attempts to even get an inkling of what happened to the house worked, there was nothing more to do. The house was gone, and that was that. As far as Severus Tobias Snape was concerned, Harry Potter was lost, as he should be. No child was worth the effort to track down, if the child was a Potter.
So for the next little while, the two wizards had some light conversation, each trying to understand what would happen next. One wanted to involve a team from the Ministry, while another wanted to go back to the dungeons, and get back to brewing.
\\Cargo Bay with Borg Alcoves, a former Borg Drone, and a baby wizard\\
"Regeneration cycle complete. The time is 0600 Hours. All systems are in nominal status." The neutral tone of the shipboard Computer announced, moments after the programmed wake up signal allowed for Seven of Nine to begin her day. Right away, she noticed the small bundle of baby Harry, in addition to the crate of PADDs.
"Computer, identify this infant, and where they came from." She spoke, in her usual no-nonsense tone.
"Unable to comply, sensor readings do not show arrival of this lifeform. Lifeform is approximately fifteen months old by the earth based calendar."
"Computer, what about the crate of PADDs I see? Specify origin." Seven continued.
"Specified crate of PADDs is not made with any materials from Voyager. PADDs are able to be remotely interfaced with. There are a number of unknown materials present in a small box at the bottom of the crate. Biological components do not conform to any known species."
Not having faced something like this before, Seven did something that was as ordinary to her as breathing. She activated her comm badge, "Seven to Captain Janeway, I require your presence in the cargo bay as soon as you are available. Commander Tuvok, Doctor, please join us as well when you are able to. We have a new addition to the crew."
While on most Starfleet vessels, Seven of Nine's manner of speaking over a comm would have been frowned at, or even reprimanded, the crew of Voyager had gotten used to Seven of Nine's style, and found it was not overly unpleasant. Several of the males wanted to have an opportunity to get to know Seven better, yet so far, she was aloof and didn't seem interested in any interaction beyond cordial conversation.
"Janeway to Seven, I acknowledge your request, and am on my way. Doctor, bring whatever you may need to examine this new member of the crew, and Tuvok, I want at least two security officers outside the cargo bay until we know more."
Her Tactical and Security Officer replied in the affirmative, while the Doctor merely answered that he would bring his regular medkit and anything else could be replicated or carried in by someone.
A few moments later, the trio of Starfleet officers, one a Hologram, one a Vulcan, and the last a Captain who had seen many things in her career, entered the cargo bay.
"Seven, what do you know so far?" Janeway asked.
"Not much Captain. The Computer estimates the child is approximately fifteen months old by earth's calendar. There are no sensor logs to indicate how they arrived. The crate next to him contains PADDs, and the Computer identified there is a small box at the bottom of the crate with several unknown biological based items. I have not begun my own scans of the infant or the crate yet."
Tuvok approached the toddler and took out his Tricorder. He made a quick scan of the young boy, announcing that he appeared Human, and might have a different quantum signature than the rest of the crew. Turning to the crate, he scanned it as well, and felt there was no threat to Voyager. "Doctor, you may examine the boy, he does not appear to pose a threat to the ship at this time. Captain, I detected an unusual energy signature in the boy's forehead. Doctor, what have you found so far?"
After getting the all clear from Tuvok, the EMH used his Medical Tricorder to glean whatever information he could from the small child. The initial results were surprising.
Captain Janeway, hearing from her Security Officer that the child and the crate of PADDs were not a danger, began to try to select one, when the Doctor interrupted.
"Captain, Mr. Tuvok, Seven; there is an envelope tucked in the bassinet. I detect no pathogens or other sicknesses in the boy's blood. His genome does present a rather different combination of base pairs the like of which I nor any of the physicians I've been programmed with have encountered. I have discovered the source of the unusual energy signature, located in the scar on his forehead. There appears to be a faint echo of a typical brain wave, though it is very fresh. I'd say it has only been there for less than a day."
"Can you isolate that echo, and if possible, remove it? I can't be certain what that scar came from, as it doesn't look like any weapon we've come across, and I'd rather not take any chances. Mr. Tuvok, please retrieve that envelope, and carefully open it."
Inside the parchment envelope, the following was written on another piece of parchment:
"To the being who has found this child, I bid you welcome.
"This child's name is Harry James Potter, and he is an orphan. Please understand that in order to protect him, I felt it was necessary to get him to an environment that is conducive to his potential, while also shielding him from the followers of the Dark Wizard who murdered his parents in cold blood. It is vital that Harry be raised not knowing of the magical world until he has turned eleven years old. My reasons involve the Greater Good, so if you know what is good for you, please follow my suggestion. At the time of writing this, he will be one year and three months old. Should you wish to contact me directly, you may do so by hopping on one foot for a period of time not less than 47 seconds while chanting the words to 'I'm a Little Teapot, Short and Stout', at least three times, while also simultaneously rubbing your backside with a fresh from a stove top mixing of macaroni and cheese wooden spoon. This will signal me that you wish to interact in a verbal manner. All I ask is that you give Harry the Love any child deserves, and give him time to grow up to be a young wizard someday."
Respectfully yours,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Grand Sorcerer of the ICW, though I can't fathom what in tarnation I really do for them,
Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot, our silly name for a court and law makers,
Headmaster of the Greatest Victorian era school in all of Europe
Naturally, some of the above letter was modified to better reflect the situation. Please continue reading and understand, this telling of the actions perpetuated by a near omnipotent being do not have simple outcomes or consequences. Carry on at your own risk to your sanity, bladder control, and other bodily functions being at risk of not functioning correctly.
Having finished reading the letter, both Captain Janeway and Tuvok were in a state of disbelief. Wizards and Witches? Magic? The bit about hopping on one foot was odd, and not likely to work aboard Voyager. Clearly this Dumbledore was a person of some importance, or Dumbledore thought he was. The Doctor and Seven read the letter shortly after the two others in the cargo bay, and had mixed reactions.
Seven of Nine, former Borg Drone, did not have the same views on the idea of Magic as many other scientists had. It was possibly a naturally occurring ability, and if she were still a member of the Collective, the boy would be a prime target for assimilation. She would study this Magic, and the PADDs, to further her understanding.
Captain Janeway was reminded of an axiom by a famous author: any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic. It was possible, in her mind, that this magic was just a form of technology. From fairy tales to Holo-novels from her youth, Katherine thought that the truth was just a field of energy that some individuals could access. Magic as a force didn't make sense to her, yet, she would come to learn her scientific method could go on holiday for all the good it did.
Lieutenant Commander Tuvok had a different reaction. In his logical mind, he thought that the best way to explain this magic was a naturally occurring biological feature of this child and his predecessors. The notion of spells, potions, charms, hexes, and the like were not totally alien to the Vulcan. He would make it a learning experience to find out more on what this new knowledge could bring.
The Holographic Doctor, a sentient being by some definitions, simply looked on in calculated wonder. His core programming wouldn't outright refuse to believe the idea of Magic. He would observe, notate, and study both the child, and the PADDs for more information. As a medical professional, he was duty bound to provide a caring persona, who would be friendly and approachable to the patients he would take care of. Little Harry James Potter would undoubtedly be a wonder to study from a distance, and see how the crew, especially a certain blond former drone, would help to raise the little tyke.
"Doctor, I'd like you to get as detailed a scan on that scar as you feel is safe and will not endanger young Mr. Potter in any way. If you can safely remove it, so we might study it later, do so. Seven, I may ask you to assist the Doctor in making a more detailed examination. These PADDs must contain a significant amount of information, and I want to have the small box examined as well. However this child arrived here, we should do our best to take care of him, as it would seem he lost both of his parents to this Dark Wizard."
"Aye, Captain. I'll begin by replicating some milk for him. It could be beneficial to have a human woman volunteer to be given some mammary stimulation from a hypospray to be able to lactate naturally, if there is at least one woman who would be open to nursing. Commander Tuvok, are the Security Officers still necessary? I hardly think a child so young is going to run off."
"Doctor, no, I don't feel the Security Officers are still needed to stay outside the cargo bay. I'll have them resume other duties for now. May I suggest setting up an area in Sickbay to give Mr. Potter an area to sleep in? Unless, Seven, if you wish to house the child here in the cargo bay?"
"Sickbay would be preferable. Doctor, I would be willing to be a nursing woman to the child. Please inform me if I need to start a special diet to make the milk more suitable to Mr. Potter." Seven of Nine spoke. Internally, she was rather indifferent to the idea. It was just something she could do to continue to be a member of the crew.
"Very well. If you could pick up the bassinet, we can make our way to Sickbay to set up a small nursery for now. I daresay Harry will eventually need accommodations better suited to his development in time. Captain, if I may, I'd like to ask Mr. Paris to go through these PADDs, and possibly create a Holodeck program to show all the information in one place, as I have reason to believe that the books referenced in numerous PADDs are going to one day benefit Harry."
"Agreed. I'll have Tom come by Sickbay when his shift is over. Seven, if at any time you need to step away from assisting the Doctor with nursing Harry, please don't hesitate to contact me. I am sure there is at least one other human woman on board that could also help. Tuvok, for the time being, I want to keep the contents of the letter to the four of us, and the remaining senior staff. Doctor, I know you may need to have an assistant for the times when you have to take your program offline, or when Seven isn't able to watch Harry. Don't hesitate to contact me if he needs a babysitter."
"Aye, Captain."
The Doctor took the crate of PADDs, while Seven of Nine carried Harry Potter in his bassinet towards the nearest turbolift. Captain Janeway and Lt. Commander Tuvok went back to the Bridge.
\\Privet Drive\\
Albus and Severus had nothing left they could do to learn what happened to the house that used to be located at Number 4. No amount of magic would ever be able to identify what happened to the Dursley house, or its occupants.
"Severus, my boy, we must consult with the Department of Mysteries, and get some Unspeakables to help. It is imperative that we find Harry quickly, or I fear that Tom will be able to come back, and have no one who can vanquish him." Albus said, erm, ordered.
"Headmaster, if nothing either of us could do with magic to try and find the child or his Muggle relatives, or their house, what makes you think the Unspeakables could do anything more? And, I'm not your boy. I came to you desperate and afraid. Your obsession with a simple child is going to be your undoing. I, Severus Tobias Snape, resign from the service of Albus Dumbledore, and his Order of the Phoenix. I want nothing more to do with you or Hogwarts. I'll collect my things, and travel to another country, please do not attempt to contact me Albus."
Moments later, a small scroll in the Headmaster's Office burnt to ash. It was the contract Albus had Severus sign the previous night. Severus was originally going to take the rest of the first term of school to arrange his classroom to his liking, and begin to attempt to teach dunderheads the art of brewing at the new term. As the contract was less than 24 hours old, the exit clause was still valid.
"Severus, please reconsider staying on as a Junior Professor. I know you aren't a favorable choice to teach Potions, and would rather teach Defense, but I can still use your talents." Albus attempted to plead with Severus.
"No, Albus. I refuse to be in your employ. I can take my skills to somewhere else, and wash my hands of you now. Goodbye." With that, the Half-Blood Prince apparated away, to return to Hogwarts and collect his belongings. He would travel to Germany, and seek out a Potions Guild to join. It would take less than a day to brew something that they had likely never seen, and he could make a nice life for himself.
Albus stood stock still on the sidewalk, staring at the place where Severus was standing only moments ago. He was flabbergasted. Shocked. Akimbo. Random word not meant to convey anything except a sad laugh. Oh, sorry about that. I have to do something to make this story memorable. Ah, yes…Albus Dumbledore was not happy. His plans were crumbling and he had wasted a great number of favors in getting Severus Snape a full pardon from any prior crimes he had committed as a Death Eater. The hearing was only earlier on the day session of the Wizengamot. Not really important or anything, so, ignore it if you want.
Deciding to at least leave a minor illusion to keep the Muggles from noticing the house had vanished, Albus also cast a very powerful ward to alert him if Harry James Potter ever returned to the location, as if he did, some of his plans could yet be salvaged.
Turning to apparate back to Hogwarts, Albus failed to notice that there were Security Cameras on a nearby home that had captured everything. Even the source of the house vanishing, not that any of the other residents of Privet Drive would really care. The neighborhood was not fond of Petunia, or her little hellion of a child. Demanding sweets and screaming at the top of his lungs all the time if he didn't get his way. Even as a toddler, he was of a size that some would mistake for a small dwarf. Really, a four stone fifteen month old, all because he could never stop eating, nor would his parents ever say no to him.
\\Sickbay, U.S.S. Voyager\\
The Doctor, Seven of Nine, and Harry Potter were alone in the medical bay, and the Doctor was doing some final scans of Harry's little stomach and digestive system, to see if there needed to be any adjustments to the milk that could be produced from the mammary glands that were part of the natural gift that a young Annika Hansen got from the Creator. As an adult woman, if she were into this sort of thing, and if she lived in an area of the universe where she needed to make money selling her milk direct from the tap…well, thankfully the 24th Century and Voyager itself had no need for currency. Seven of Nine would never debase herself to sell something her body produced. That isn't to say she wouldn't enjoy the act, with a nice man. Not someone who never got promoted past Ensign for the entire voyage. No, he was out. Their first private conversation could have been construed as a genuine offer of copulation, and Seven would have done it for the experience alone. No, Harry Kim missed out. In the years since that night, Seven considered other men on the ship, and none came up to her standards. She had of course availed herself of some literature in the Computer's databanks, from some well read authors, like Jane Austen.
Oh, my apologies. I seem to have strayed from my point for this scene. I hope it wasn't too much of a deviation.
So, the Doctor finished his scans, and with the aid of the many algorithms and experience and case notes of 47 physicians, he calculated the right dosage to give to Seven to stimulate those amazing and totally natural (well, Borg nanoprobes were constructed with the aid of minerals and other things found in the body already, so…) mammary glands to start producing milk for a short time.
"Seven, this hypospray will allow for both of your breasts to produce milk for about two hours after each use. It should last you about five days, and if you would like to synthesize more, just come see me. I think it would be best if Harry got some additional nutrients from the milk you've so graciously volunteered to produce for him. I've accounted for the nanoprobes in your system, and they shouldn't transfer over to him. Would you like a privacy screen to nurse him? Do you know how to nurse a baby?"
"I am familiar with the methods mothers use to take care of their young. Humans have a simple process. If no one else is in Sickbay, I have no problem baring my breasts here, as long as no recording sensors are activated. Should we design a nursery and fabricate it? I do not believe it would be beneficial to the child if he was raised in a Cargo Bay."
"Very well. Computer, seal Sickbay for the next half hour. Deactivate any sensors capable of recording images or video. Seven, I would recommend alternating every few minutes. I don't know if Harry is used to nursing or if he was bottle fed from before the unfortunate death of his mother, so if there is any discomfort, please let me know. May I scan the pair of you while he is nursing? I only wish to make sure the milk is the right blend for the next week or so. If any adjustments are needed, it would be best to have a baseline to compare to."
Seven had unzipped the top of her one piece uniform, exposing her breasts. Picking Harry up out of his bassinet, she angled his head to her left breast, while supporting his back with her right arm. The Doctor got a small towel he had replicated a moment ago and laid it over Seven's left shoulder.
"A reasonable precaution. Doctor, if my breasts get tender, would you like to massage them or should I use a hypospray?"
The Doctor, being a medical professional, simply felt that the situation would need to be on a case by case basis. Many men and some women on the ship would likely have been rather quick to volunteer to help Seven with the former of her question.
"I can do either, whichever you prefer. I will treat this as I would any other patient, with full doctor-patient confidentiality. At some point, I would like to replicate a baby sling, and ask if you would feel okay with walking around the ship with Harry, to get him used to the background noise and vibrations. An hour twice a day should be enough."
"I will make the necessary adjustments to my routine."
"Oh, and Seven, you may want to replicate some toys or other stimuli, to engage his mind on occasion."
"Do you wish for me to become the child's adoptive mother?"
"Let's not go that far just yet. If you are amenable to doing so, then I think the Captain would approve. You've come a long way since the first day you were aboard. I can recommend some holo-programs to give you some fine examples of being a mother, even if it is in an adoptive fashion."
"I will visit the Holodeck after I finish nursing Harry. It is logical to use his name more, and I will attempt to call him by his name more often."
"That's the spirit, Seven! I look forward to documenting this, if you have no objections. Only text, no pictures of you breastfeeding Harry, of course."
"That is agreeable. For the sake of being thorough, would you massage my breasts once Harry has had his fill of each? I have not had the experience before of mammary stimulation, and am curious what the sensation would be like."
Of course, little Baby Harry and Magic combined with something like Fate made it so the more Harry would nurse from Seven's breast, the less Borg implants and other systems remained. The Doctor had done an excellent job in removing the majority of the implants and artificial things. Seven was not a vain woman, though she did take a certain delight in choosing her outfits when it was time to replicate them. The productivity of the crew did go up when she wore her uniforms, especially the blue one. The pink uniform was less of a boost for some reason, while the silver seemed to be the best choice to boost productivity.
The Holographic Doctor was fine with acquiescing to Seven's request for a massage. Seven did appreciate the sensation, and noted to herself that the Doctor had very warm hands, and she could get used to this. A prior experience with the Doctor and a race of beings who were practically xenophobic when it came to holograms had soured her opinion of the Doctor briefly. While a mate among the crew was not likely to happen, there was something to be said for a continued exploration into what could be achieved with some photons, a computer databank, and force fields. Some more thought would need to go into pursuing anything further with the Doctor.
\\Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office\\
Albus was sitting at his desk, deep in thought. A few days ago, he had taken a young Severus Snape with him to where the Dursley home used to be. The efforts to locate a single magical trace of the house, or of Harry bore no fruit. To make it worse for the Headmaster, Snape had exercised his right to bow out of the contract that was only signed on the morning of Halloween. The current Potions Professor would have to remain for a little while longer. Albus knew that the Dark Lord was not truly gone, and with the Prophecy in play, he only had so much time to see if it could still apply to Neville Longbottom. Does 'mark as his equal' mean a physical mark? Or could it be forged from the strife and pain of losing one's parents to the insanity brought on from Cruciatius exposure? For that took place very early in the morning, and Frank and Alice Longbottom were getting evaluated for their long term care needs this afternoon. Such a shame that a random elf delivered a note to Bellatrix Lestrange that the Longbottoms were a threat to the Dark Lord, and needed to be quietly tortured to take them out of the chess board that the Wizarding War was turning into of late.
It was odd that rather than murder them, Bellatrix along with her husband and brother-in-law, and one other Death Eater, chose to stop at only torture. While most potions would be of little help, Albus knew there was a single potion that could be brewed with the aid of Phoenix tears, graphorn tongue, basilisk eye tissue, and a few more ingredients. The one drawback to this potion was the need for the basilisk eye tissue to be freshly harvested, prepared for the potion, and brewed with the rest of the ingredients all within a 12 hour period of administering to the patients. Of course, basilisks were illegal to hatch in all parts of the Magical World. That isn't to say there weren't alternative methods to acquire the tissue. Expensive and dangerous, it would be some time before Albus could 'stumble upon' an old tome somewhere, and cure the Longbottoms when the time was right.
No, the plans he had formulated counting on Harry James Potter were all for naught. He decided to move on and shift his focus to getting Neville prepared to take on the role. Sadly, or perhaps conveniently, Neville Longbottom was never going to fit the Prophecy. Fate chose Harry for a few reasons. Tom Marvolo Riddle chose Harry to be symbolic as a half-blood, something his followers would be shaken to the core to learn someday.
\\Voyager, Two Years after Seven began to care for Harry\\
Life was amazing for an almost four year old Harry James Potter. His adoptive mother, Annika Hansen, was simply the best. She had quite expertly fallen in love with being a mother figure to the boy. There could be debate on who adopted whom, if you wish. For now, let us continue.
Voyager was still on track to get home, just not at the original frenetic pace they started their journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. Relationships among the men and women of the crew flourished. Janeway and Chakotay decided to 'throw out the rulebook' on fraternization. Tom and B'Elanna had their daughter Miral, who was an absolutely adorable Terror (Really, who allows a toddler on the Bridge, and then allows them to launch a torpedo at an asteroid, only because she wanted to see a 'Big Boom Mama! Big Boom Aunty Kathy!'). The Doctor, after a nearly year long slow and methodical effort of the then still named Seven of Nine, relented to what had been obvious to the rest of the crew: Seven of Nine was crazy for a Hologram. What had started as medical visits to further assist Seven while she nursed Harry, morphed into a slow budding romance. The Doctor was more than surprised when Seven arranged a holodeck dinner date.
Sure, as a being of pure energy contained in a force field, with all of his personality and memories being a massive computer file, the Doctor didn't need food, companionship, or one thing almost all males of all species want: sex. He had previously dabbled with a holo-family, and that failed miserably. When Seven had pulled out all the stops to make it clear to the EMH she wanted a partner, and chose him, it was not something he could understand at first. Downloading romantic subroutines and affection subroutines didn't really make the Doctor prepared for when Seven wore a rather fetching blue dress that may as well have been painted on. The ruby red lipstick and her hair being let out was a nice touch. She had a meal, while his was more for show, to make it less awkward. The dancing, which turned into grinding, and Seven's command of loading a 'sensation' program to run along with the rest of the Doctor's core programming, gave him the feeling of what a beautiful woman can do to a man with only a few words, the right outfit, and a mission to get her legs weak in the morning. Of course, being a consummate performer in medical things, in singing opera, in just being a really genuine and helpful EMH, the Doctor had no issue that night giving Seven her wish. One thing she flat out said no to was an encore of the whole 'hologram in my Borg systems to hide' thing. She would much rather be able to drive the high performance hologram than be the one to allow him to experience it from her side with someone else. Monogamy is not a bad thing to practice.
It was approaching bath time in their quarters. The Doctor had settled on a name of Nathaniel Livingstone. It was not from literature, or music, or anything really of note. After a few months of being intimate, Seven began to feel like shedding her Borg name finally, and it was not long that the whole crew were comfortable using her human name. While Harry still needed breastmilk some days, Annika's body had reduced the Borg implants to almost three percent. She still had the arm module on the left side. The ocular accoutrements were gone, as was the part in her forehead that failed a long time ago. She still needed to regenerate each night, and with the help of Lt. Torres, Ensign Kim, and Dr. Livingstone, they adapted a bed to provide the regeneration cycle she needed.
"Honey, I'm home!" Dr. Livingstone announced, mainly for the effect it had on Harry. The wizard was used to being tossed in the air for a few moments when his holographic dad got home from Sickbay. It wasn't ever going to be a traditional family, but that was okay. Having no olfactory sense capabilities, the EMH pretended to have an unpleasant reaction to the child's mild body odor, and proclaimed, "Oh my, it looks like someone needs a bath! Annika, are you ready?"
"Yes Nathaniel, I am. I've drawn up a bath for us both. Will you be making dinner tonight or should I?" This came from the other room, where a bathtub that could be mistaken for a small pool was installed.
"Oh, I can make you dinner. What should we have tonight?"
"Sketti and Meeballs!" This came from Harry, who couldn't quite pronounce spaghetti and meatballs yet. Ah, the joy of children and what they can say.
"Sketti and Meeballs, you say? I think the computer might not be able to interpret that, Mr. Potter. Once more, if you please?"
"Dad!"
"Oh very well." Walking over to the food replicator, Nathaniel placed the order, "Two servings of spaghetti and meatballs, one adult portion, one child size portion. Two glasses of water, one liter portion, one pint portion." Within seconds, the two meals were materialized, along with some water. Being a physician, Nathaniel also knew that his partner and Harry needed other nutrients, and a light snack for dessert. "Computer, prepare a, honey, cheesecake?"
"Sure, peanut butter chocolate please. And some cookies for Harry. Mint creme today."
Continuing to speak to the replicator terminal, Nathaniel said, "One serving of peanut butter chocolate cheesecake, one child serving of mint creme cookies. I'll have a holographic plate of steak, medium rare, with mashed potatoes and vegetables. A bottle of holographic wine as well."
The meals all prepared, the family of three sat down to eat. For the EMH, his plate was just for appearances of course. Harry had been curious why he never saw his Dad eat food, so the unique couple came up with a way to make it look like he could eat, by just having a simple holographic plate of food each time they sat down. The replicator didn't actually make his plate, for the quarters they had moved into were equipped with their own holo-matrix and an isolated generator to keep them online at all times.
Simple and enjoyable conversation ensued. And then, the Bath Time Event took place.
/Warning: this is purely for entertainment purposes, and should not be construed as status quo for life on Voyager. Reader discretion is advised.\\
It was a bath. Mother, adoptive as she was, did her part, while Harry, did his part. It was normal and nothing strange happened during the bath. The drying off part and getting dressed for bed part were not, in any way, standard or normal to the couple. Nathaniel, being a hologram, had no need to bathe, so he sat in a chair, reading a story to his adoptive son. This night it was Beowulf. For the sake of simplicity, the author shall not reference what happens there, as mere text on a screen can not do it justice. Once Harry and Annika were sufficiently bathed, it was time for them to get out, dry off, and get dressed for bed. Only, Harry had other ideas.
Harry James Potter had his first ever, to the crew of Voyager, bout of accidental magic.
The moment he was lifted out of the bathtub, Harry ran through the family's quarters like a cat might if it fell into the tub with water any level high enough to dunk said feline. Annika, not bothered by her nudity, tried to chase after her charge, and enlisted her partner Nathaniel to help. We shall emphasize the word tried.
It lasted several minutes, and for some reason, neither human woman nor holographic Doctor could catch Harry. Neither one wanted to call upon the Computer to place force fields anywhere in the small apartment like quarters, and truthfully, the laughter coming from Harry was music to the ears of the adult occupants. However, like many other parents and parental figures, eventually, the dreaded Full Name Use clause got enacted.
In a stronger and slightly louder voice than her usual one, Annika called out, "Harry James Potter! That is enough! It is time for bed!" Nathaniel had no need to pant and heave in lungfuls of oxygen, though he could simulate it for effect.
Harry, being emotionally charged, had a burst of that time immemorial action by saying, "NO! NO CLOTHES! NO BEDTIME!"
The outcome of this was not something the crew would be able to avoid. For the following four days, no humanoid being except the very young children, that is, Harry, Miral, and Naomi, were able to keep a single article of clothing on. No matter what they tried, all of the adults could not keep anything on to cover themselves. Replicated clothing, or clothing they already had in their respective closets, never stayed on. It would fade out and reappear back where it had been hung prior. Also, none of the adults were able to sleep during this four day stretch of time.
They were fortunate enough to not be hailed by any vessel needing assistance, or having to hail any passing vessel for supplies trading, or navigational data. The Data Stream to Earth was strangely offline the entire time, too. It became normal for the whole bridge crew to make a bikini of sorts using Isolinear chips, PADDs, ODN conduit, and other things to cover their private parts. That effort lasted a whole half of a shift, before the items would fall apart and return to where they had been collected from.
Tuvok and several others made multiple attempts to research the PADDs that had arrived with young Harry to find a solution, as it had become quite obvious that Harry had a bout of accidental magic, once the senior staff had consulted with Annika and Nathaniel.
Eventually, the strange and bizarre ship wide effects of that magic stopped, and nary a nipple, nor a buttock, or even a cylindrical portion of flesh that can be used to great effect to mate, were displayed at all in public. Some officers were quite interested in running a uniform optional shift, with consent from all parties, yet, the Captain made it prohibited.
/This concludes the telling of the Bath Time Event.\\
\\Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall's Office, May 26 1991\\
The Hogwarts Book of Names was a rather interesting piece of magic. Stored in a hidden room in the castle, the Book was automatic. No Wizard or Witch could get into the room, and the Book itself was not able to be removed, nor summoned. It was charmed, runed, potioned, and straight up loaded with so many obscure forms of magic that it could be considered sentient. Not to mention powerful. It knew from the moment of a child's birth, if that child had enough magic to be able to attend Hogwarts. A quill stored in the Book wrote out the full names of all possible future students, and upon the time of year before they turned 11 years old, the quill would hover over a stack of envelopes, write out the address of where they slept, and later on, an elf would take the stack of envelopes to the Deputy Headmistress. Her office had the book lists, and form letters that could be copied easily to send to each new student, inviting them to attend Hogwarts.
It was this group of envelopes for the upcoming school year that almost gave Minerva McGonagall a cardiac infarction.
Among them were the normal envelopes of new students like Draco Malfoy, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and many more normal envelopes. One among them was not normally addressed.
Seeing the envelope set aside from the rest of the stack, Minerva decided to take a closer look.
Mr. H. Potter
The Quarters of Annika Hansen and Nathaniel Livingstone
Small bedroom adjacent to the study
U.S.S. Voyager, NCC 74656
Delta Quadrant, Sector J2056
She read the address listed on the envelope, and had to read it again. Twice. For the Sector kept changing. It started off as J2056, and in the few minutes after Minerva had entered her office that morning, it changed to J2057, then a minute later, it changed to J2134.
What was the Delta Quadrant? What was Voyager? Who are Annika Hansen and Nathaniel Livingstone? Why does the Sector change almost once per minute? More questions formed in the keen mind of the Transfiguration Professor, and no answers came. She had to consult with Albus, and open her drawer with a nice bottle of 1946 Glenfiddich. This bottle in particular was a gift from one of her favorite students, and coincidentally, the Mother to one Harry James Potter.
She needed some liquid courage to bring this to Albus, as like many others in the Wizarding World, most had written him off. After having a solid three fingers worth of the Scotch, she prepared to go to the Headmaster.
Search teams composed of Unspeakables could not find a trace of Potter. The Goblins still considered him alive, though flat out refused to give more details. Greedy Wizards like Malfoy tried to declare the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter extinct and expressed an interest in folding that house's assets into the Malfoy House, and that motion failed spectacularly, when his claim was refused in that Wizengamot session, as Magic itself ruled he was not fit to claim the Potter assets or House. Magic judged Malfoy Senior, and made him forever unable to salute to a woman, or a man, as some in Wizarding society suspected was a flavor of Malfoy's perversions when the mood struck.
After examining the remaining envelopes, and confirming each one was still valid, Professor McGonagall set about charming copies of the form letter for First Year students, along with the other six years she had already in her office. The normal letters could go out with no issue. Mr. Potter's letter, however, required some special attention.
\\Headmaster's Office\\
Albus 'I still think I know best for the ENTIRE Wizarding World' Dumbledore was going through some parchments on his desk, some referencing the thickness of cauldron bottoms becoming a concern. One was a letter from his former bat, erm, spy, erm…well, the man who he wanted to mold into a double agent. It was about a potion he created that would make goats more appealing to Wizards with the initials AD…that parchment went to the incinerator basket on the floor. Another was from the Minister, yet again pleading with Dumbledore to send an envoy to the Goblins, to seek help in locating Mr. Potter. The idea he had several years ago about guiding young Mr. Longbottom to fulfilling the Prophecy failed in every way. His Grandmother managed to weasel out of the Headmaster the truth about a special potion that could cure her son and daughter-in-law, and had pushed through legislation with the help of other purebloods to make a basilisk reserve, with the sole purpose of curing all who suffered from Cruciatus exposure.
So, Neville Francis Longbottom got his parents back when he was still under the age of Terror to the Parents and Caregivers. Albus still had a spot of pain in his left hip from being attacked vigorously by that stuffed vulture. The Unspeakables had concluded only five years after Halloween 1981 that the Prophecy Albus had heard while interviewing Trelawney was still active, and that only one child could have fit. Their combined magic and skill weren't able to locate Mr. Potter though, for several reasons. The Goblins had some magic they refused to share with wand wielders. The Ministry was obstinate in keeping the two cultures at each other's throats. Albus tried through his position on the Wizengamot to suppress any action that would make it more favorable to allow Goblins to wield wands again. All in all, it was a total cluster-umm, you may know the actual word. Author wishes to avoid it for now.
Parchment-work, or paperwork to Muggles, was the bane of a school administrator's existence. Time was precious, and magicals had yet to find a way to get wasted time back. If they knew that Time itself would be rather UPSET if some magical managed to discover a way to gain more time or recover wasted time, well…civilizations had been wiped out for less. No, it was a very good thing that magicals kept being stumped by Time. Time Turners weren't a problem, as they only reversed the flow of time, and could not affect the cosmos on a grand scale.
"An elf, please Hogwarts." Albus said, after feeling a might peckish.
Before the castle could send a house elf to assist the Headmaster, a very irate Witch stormed into the room.
"ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE! You told me Harry Potter likely was gone and could never return! What do you make of this, you old codger?" Throwing the envelope on his desk, Minerva was not quite at the Scottish Bur stage of her rant, so there was hope. Her tone of voice was such that it could be compared to the behavior of a Lioness, protecting her cubs. You did not cross Minerva McGonagall in that state, if you desired a fully intact anatomy. She wasn't a Transfiguration Mistress for nothing. Oh, if the Hogwarts Code of Conduct for Professors didn't forbid using Transfiguration on students as a form of punishment, James Potter would have been turned into a porcupine if Minerva had her way.
"Hello Minerva, good afternoon." Albus began, silently saying a prayer that his eardrums would only need a minor healing spell later on. Looking down at the envelope which had landed perfectly flush with the center of his magical calendar, Albus choked out a sob. Here was proof that Harry Potter was still alive. The location was not familiar to Albus, though who could know what the Delta Quadrant was. Noticing the Sector J2204A on the parchment shift to Sector J2309B, he frowned. "Minerva, how many times did that sector change on your way here? I must confess, I never said Harry Potter was dead. I thought he was beyond our reach. If you recall, I was lambasted quite severely a few years back when the Daily Prophet ran the story about thousands of owls being unwilling to carry letters to him."
"That donea mattah, ye old coot! The Book knows where he is, even wit dat blarmy sectoh keep changin!" Minerva replied, her anger abating slightly, and the Glenfiddich starting to affect her speech.
"I will need to consult with some of my friends in the Department of Mysteries, Minerva. I assure you, I will get more information and share it with you as soon as I have any answers."
"Have you any idea what Voyager is? What does NCC mean? I don't recognize either of the two names listed below Mr. Potter's, and I do recall U.S.S. being something used to identify ships in the American's navies, I think. I haven't been to the Muggle world much in the past 15 years, aside from Ms. Granger last year after term had started, and a small handful of other Muggleborn students. My primary focus was not to absorb minutiae like this." Minerva's speech had improved for a few reasons: the Author realizes typing in a Scottish Bur is difficult, and, um, magic!
"I don't recognize NCC either. I have some contacts in MACUSA, and will draft a letter to them forthwith. Are you willing to accept my apology for not being as knowledgeable as I ought to be about Muggle things?"
"This time, maybe. Albus, I don't have a clue where this Delta Quadrant is. My time in Astronomy was over thirty years ago, and I have had no need to brush up on it. What will happen if we can't find a way to deliver his letter before next term starts?"
"As the law stands, nothing will happen to Mr. Potter if he can't formally accept his invitation. The public will continue to wish me ill, and Cornelius will pester me as long as he can. As you may remember, Lucius had tried to claim the Potter House and failed some years ago. The public should have taken that as a sign that there was still a member of the Potter Family alive, somewhere. I have been reflecting on that night when you advised me to choose a better family than the Dursleys. I made some mistakes, and genuinely wish to correct what I can."
While the two were sitting opposite each other with a rather nice desk in between them, an elf appeared.
"I beg your pardon Headmaster Whiskers, and Headmistress Kitty, Hogwarts said I had to file my taxes a bit early this year, so I was delayed. How may I serve you?" The House Elf, named Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, or Llan for short, asked. The origins of his name are lost to time, and as mentioned earlier, Time suffers no fools of a Took! Erm, Wizards or Witches, right….
"Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, if you would be so kind as to provide Professor McGonagall and myself some refreshments, that would be appreciated. Are you going to be able to get a nice return this year?" Albus said, conversationally.
With a snap of his fingers, two trays of food and drink appeared on the desk, one each for the respective Professor's side of the desk. What that food was, we may never know. Really, don't ask. "Oh, I should get back close to 5 galleons, 8 sickles, and 14 knuts." The elf replied. Please don't make me type his name out more, said the Author.
"Oh, the Goblins are being generous this year. Splendid. Minerva, would you mind providing the gratuity please?" Albus didn't have his coin bag (purse, but shh…) on him today.
"I'll add it to your tab, Albus." Minerva responded. She took her own tartan clan resplendent coin purse (she had no problem calling it a purse) and tipped the elf a healthy sum of 1 galleon, 16 sickles, and 28 knuts. Consulting a small bit of parchment in the purse, she advised the older man, "That brings up your tab with me to 6 galleons, 2 sickles, and 23 knuts. I expect to be reimbursed with my next salary deposit. I trust you can inform the Goblins on time?"
"Yes, of course. I'll make sure to include a note making sure you are reimbursed, Minerva."
The elf, who shall never again appear in this story, due to a union issue, left and enjoyed his tip. Hogwarts used to never encourage tipping, or wages for that matter. A pesky student who shall remain nameless caused a big ruckus when they handed a House Elf in their common room a single silver sickle, saying, "Thank you for your service. Don't you think all elves should be paid and allowed to have time off, vacation time, sick pay, and the ability to have maternity leave for the ladies, and paternal leave for the males, and other benefits?" The elf, not wishing to disagree with the student, took the sickle, and vowed to improve the lives of all the fellow elves in the castle. The chaos that came about from this was epic.
Oh, you've made it through over 12 thousand words! Congratulations, and thanks if you are still reading!
The remainder of the conversation between two rather knowledgeable Transfiguration Masters devolved into other matters, both trivial and banal.
\\Department of Mysteries\\
Albus had taken the envelope that the Book of Names had written out the strange address for Mr. Potter to the Unspeakables. His expertise was taxed to almost its limit, and he could not decipher the mystery of the constantly changing sector. Sometimes, it was not pleasant having to admit he didn't know something. Had he been more versed in Muggle star charts and Astronomy, he may have been clued in to what the sectors meant.
Saul Croaker was in his office, reading from a Muggle magazine. It was charmed on the outside to look like a copy of the latest edition of the Quibbler, for, well, reasons.
For the last almost nine years, Saul and the team of Unspeakables had made several attempts at learning what exactly caused the complete disappearance of Number 4 Privet Drive, and the people within. When Cornelius 'galleons are the best, sure, you can have your law passed!' Fudge had learned of the missing Harry Potter, he had tasked the Department of Mysteries to leave no stone unturned, no ditch undug, no well undug, no…[SYSTEM FAULT…UNACCEPTABLE RAMBLING DETECTED].
My goodness, this author has some major attention span concerns, or does he?
With several thousand hours spent by a team of almost a score of Unspeakables, the cost in overtime alone would almost bankrupt the Ministry. If the child wasn't found soon, Cornelius would have no choice but to declare him missing in action. Saul Croaker would miss the brainstorming sessions, the crazier ideas to come up with a ritual to pull Mr. Potter from wherever he had been these past nine years, and the really hot ladies who were so affectionate towards his, umm, dogs. Yes, his dogs loved the ladies and their petting. No Animagus Dogs, thank you very much. Except maybe one…
After finishing an article on the importance of keeping a clean area down below the navel, his sanctum was disturbed by none other than Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Oh, could this day get any worse? There was nothing left to attempt. All prior efforts kept failing at close to the last moment. Rituals kept getting stranger and more curious and more wonderful and more bizarre and long winded. Did you know, some Wizards foolishly tried to hold their breath underwater for an entire off key US National Anthem? Not that that has any bearing on this story. The lessons learned though, are possibly relevant. Don't allow singers who can't carry a tune in a bucket anywhere near MACUSA Department of International Song Tuners.
Oh, yes, the plot. I must admit, I've lost it a few times, and am trying to corral it.
Here we go, huzzah!
"Saul, my friend. I have a new clue that may help us in finding Mr. Potter at last." Dumbledore stated, not even being patient enough to wait to be acknowledged.
"Dumbledore, this had better be good. Fudge is a few beats of a Snitch's wings away from declaring Mr. Potter MIA. He has enough influence now on the Wizengamot to force Gringotts to cede all of the Potter Assets to the Ministry, for what the pompous fool called 'redistribution to upstanding citizens'."
"He can try, though I fear the Goblins would eviscerate Cornelius if he went through with it. Take a look at this envelope, Saul, and see what you make of it." Dumbledore placed the envelope down on the desk of the man in front of him. The Sector portion of the address was now up to J2311.
Already taking his wand out to run some charms over the envelope to gain some hidden knowledge known only to the Unspeakables, Saul Croaker had an epiphany.
"By Merlin's Saggy Left Sock Collection! Mr. Potter is Alive! Oh, joyous news! Albus, we must hug!" Clearly, someone was close to the edge. Saul was a prideful wizard. His team of 20 Unspeakables with a combined 251 years of magical training and study had failed to get a single working method to locate Mr. Potter ever since the night of October 31, 1981.
"Only a hug, Saul?" Dumbledore responded, before accepting a simple hug from the Head Unspeakable. "Is the changing sector part of the address helpful? Neither Minerva or myself can understand it. Professor Sinistra was not at the castle when Minerva brought the envelope to me, so I was unable to consult with her on what the Delta Quadrant and those sectors could mean. I would make an educated guess that Voyager is a ship, though what kind, and what flag it sails under, I do not know."
"Albus, I don't think Voyager is a ship of the seas. For the sector to continue changing every minute or so, I would think Voyager is some kind of space faring vessel. The Yanks had a Voyager probe I think, though I don't recall if it was big enough to hold a person, or even where it would be now." Saul replied.
"Should we bring in some Muggle experts, or perhaps past students who have scored an O on their NEWTs in Astronomy?" Albus suggested.
"The Minister may not want too many people knowing the details. What do you think about the Goblins, Albus? They could have more information. Our own attempts to learn from them were strangely cryptic. They kept saying Mr. Potter was not so much lost, as he was far away and on his way back to his home neighborhood. Now that I have seen this envelope and the part where it keeps changing the sector listed, I would theorize their answers each time were related to a ship traveling back this way."
"This is all academic though. How do we deliver Mr. Potter's Hogwarts Letter? If he is indeed on some kind of space vessel, and even that idea is a major bit of confusion for me to understand, what methods would even reach wherever the Delta Quadrant is? How many licks of a tootsie pop are needed to offend an ostrich? What is the cosine of the curvature of the notes a songbird makes at sunset, after a harvest of fresh pickled slime puffs? How do you confuse a liberal? Will the Americas have to suffer from the leadership of an Orange buffoon with bad hair, a propensity to wear ridiculously large red ties, and the ego of a teenager? Will the Americas have to suffer from a successor to Orange man in the form of a man who not only lost his marbles, but got denied purchase permission from the largest online retailer who shares their name with a river in South America? Will–?" Albus asked many questions, and was going to ask another, pointless question, when, out from Stage Left, a very large, as in the size of Hagrid's legs length in diameter, lemon meringue pie laced with an assortment of excessive food coloring added in hit his whole body like a Mack truck. This large lemon meringue rainbow dyed all over the place pie was a generous half a hand of a Dementor tall. [WARNING: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES ASK A DEMENTOR TO DANCE! They have no sense of style, or the ability to Tango.]
Dumbledore liked his sweets, as some of you may know from the books written by the wonderful Ms. Rowling. Truly, she wrote a great series that many of us love. Apples are always going to be apples, and tangerines are always going to be tangerines. An apple that tries to claim it can be a tangerine or a tangerine that tries to claim it can be an apple both need to be provided with professional help.
While the jury is still out on what would make an apple or a tangerine gain awareness and even fathom changing their identity to something totally different than the Creator designed for both types of fruit, the two wizards were debating the various methods of cleaning up the mess left by the giant pie that would have barely been enough to feed Vernon Dursley and his son Dudley. Saul thought of having a contest to see who could eat the most bits of pie off the robes of the other man in the room. Albus [NO, JUST NO! STOP YOU SILLY WRITER, THIS ISN'T THE WAY! Oh, and please, continue making random Fourth Wall Breaks whenever they feel appropriate to include.] smiled at the sudden addition to his outfit of lemon meringue, though was confused as to all the different portions that were of all sorts of food coloring dyed frosting, crust, and even the lemon flavoring. There was just something weird about the lemon flavor that was a decidedly vivid velvet color. Or the deepest chartreuse shade as well.
After taking out their respective wands, both wizards transferred all the bits of pie off their robes, and working together, reassembled the massive pie to help feed the Ministry Guard Dragons, as a Department of Magical Beasts worker discovered some ninety years ago that dragons just love pie. It didn't matter what kind of pie it was, if offered to a dragon, of the kind that lives in the Ministry, the great winged and fire breathing beasts would simply croon over the sight of a pie. Some varieties of dragon, like a Ukrainian Ironbelly would devour a whole pie, up to three yards in diameter and half a yard tall, in just a few small bites from their impressive jaws. Alternatively, the Hebridean Black was vehemently opposed to anything that contained either cherries or blueberries. Of the sweet tooth of a Peruvian Vipertooth, they adored chocolate of any kind, and would sometimes donate some random bits of diamond in their excrement. Their flatulence though was dangerous. The streets of London had so much unexpected heat from a source none of the Muggles could identify, which helped in parts of the winters.
"Well Albus, I can't answer all of your questions, and perhaps we should focus on the magic and potential meaning of this envelope. I think we should go to the Goblins and ask them for help. There is something we are missing, and if I am correct, the Goblins will finally allow us to learn more about what we can do next." Saul spoke kindly, after putting away his desire to replicate the pie incident with his favorite witch another time. Did you really think I'd write a male-to-male intimate scene? No, thank you. Not my cup of tea.
"I agree, Saul. The Goblins should have some answers. Shall we attempt to bribe them with the Ministry Dragon Diamonds?"
Saul's answer to that last part is going to remain off screen and forever in the category of: you, the reader, decide if it is worth thinking about.
\\End Chapter\\
{Author Note: This is a genuine note from the person who has worked on writing this introduction chapter. I am not insane, nor touched in the head. I wanted to create another crossover between two of my favorite fandoms, as the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'll continue to work on my other stories and post updates when able to. Constructive feedback is always welcome. Any person who wants to comment in a negative manner (personally targeting my writing style, not the content of what I write), those comments can get baked into the next pie fed to the Ministry Guard Dragons.}