Behold, the final chapter of HP's most excellent adventure! Part of the thanksgiving mega release, this marks the end of this particular story. It's a massive chapter, far larger than I intended. I hope this partially makes up for the fact that it took an extra two years to finish.

Sometimes, Harry couldn't help but think of himself as some sort of galactic space janitor. In the beginning, when he'd taken those bold, first steps into the greater galactic community, with wonder and awe in his wide eyes, things had been relaxed. Not great for most people, what with the Goa'uld and all, but life was simpler.

No Space station encased super gates that needed smashing, or Ancient superweapons that needed to be aimed at Wraith super hives. The term 'super' was becoming more ubiquitous these days, and it was forcing him to put in a lot of unwanted (and unpaid) overtime to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Like right now, for instance. Potter and SG1, the Calvin and Hobbs of the Milky Way, were crouched behind some standard-issue Goa'uld cargo crates in a spacious gate room. The tern 'Cavern' was a more apt term, with the ceiling located over seventy vertical meters up(Mitchell had checked with a range finder, that's how long they'd been here). In terms of scale, the stone Pyramid they found themselves in was easily twice as tall as a Ha'tak from base to pointy tip.

Who would build such a monstrosity, you ask yourself? Well, the Ori weren't a fan of Geometric shapes, and the lack of mechanical whirring meant this wasn't the work of the Replicators either.

That left everyone's favorite snake hijackers. The original evildoers of the Galaxy, and for the duration of this mission, they evoked a nostalgic feeling in the Spacefaring Wizard. Yes, it was Anubis's preferred base of operation they currently found themselves in.

Harry briefly wondered how someone as vanilla as Anubis had managed to make it this far, with crazed Religious Zealots, life force sucking bugs and killer robots running roughshod across the galaxy. In comparison, old Anubis simply didn't bring anything new to the table. Perhaps then, it was time to put the old fella down. Greener pastures and all that rubbish.

"This is an idiotic plan," Carter muttered, cradling her Micro 16 with a healthy frown. "There's no way he's going to fall for this."

'This' referred to a snazzy five-foot platform with a plain cardboard box resting in the center. Printed in black on the box, was a curved arrow. Above it hung a flashing neon arrow, so incredibly out of place, it was painful to even look at.

Potter fished out a crisp American greenback featuring the ugly mug of one Ben Franklin, holding it between his index and middle fingers. Sam, by unspoken agreement, nodded, accepting his bet.

And so they waited, hidden in plain sight behind a pile of crates that looked like a pillow fort in a living room. The guards, of which there were many, didn't seem bothered by the cluttered pile next to the gate.

Teal'c, Mitchell, and Jackson had repurposed one of the boxes, using the lid to play a game of poker. Vala was rummaging through their cover, which Harry had nicked beforehand from a warehouse and shrunk by the dozens. He had no idea what they contained, but the cat burglar was busy finding out.

To the uneducated Jaffa, this was just another cargo shipment from one of the countless slave mines. Yup, nothing to see here. At all.

Accompanying the usual suspects was a familiar brunette, hair frizzy from the stress evoked by the situation. Yes, it was none other than Hermione Granger, who'd been unfortunate enough to seek out the Wizard on the very day they finally decided to deal with Anubis, once and for all.

Having come to terms with her former best friend's new lifestyle over the last week did little to prepare her for what essentially could be considered a precision surgical strike at the leader of a hostile empire.

Of course, despite calling it that, Harry made it look like they were about to prank someone instead of assassinating them. That last part didn't sit too well with her, despite believing his explanation that the half ascended Goa'uld was pure evil, making Voldemort look like a schoolyard bully in comparison.

Harry had wisely held his tongue, recalling the countless masses he'd sent to the great beyond in the last few years, running amok throughout the Galaxy (and the other one he'd yet to mention to her). Double genocide in under one hour too, recalling what was in the box he was using as bait. Yeah, she wouldn't take it well.

"Look!" she hissed, having been the only one actually looking out of their little camp, mainly because it was all so new. For Harry and SG1, they'd seen enough Goa'uld interior design to last several lifetimes. Potter sat up, joining her, taking the opportunity to squeeze her arse through those tight jeans, for which he received a stinging hex to the foot in retaliation.

"Showtime." He muttered, not giving her the satisfaction of showing how much her handiwork actually hurt. On the inside he was yelling profanities left, right and center, eyes watering profusely.

The robed figure glided into the chamber, guards snapping to attention. Anubis, presumably, paused for a few seconds, facing the well-warded pile of crates that held the Tau'ri, before his attention was recaptured by the garish construct someone had the audacity of placing in his pyramid.

Flanked by two minions, he ascended (haa, get it?) the stairs, and motioned for one of the Jaffa to open the box.

Arms diving into the mass of Styrofoam packing peanuts, they lifted out a very familiar device.

"Harry, please tell me you didn't actually put the Sangraal in there?" Jackson hissed from his left, having paused the game to see how this would play out.

Turns out Potter was playing the real high stakes game and had just gone all-in with a pair of tens.

"Well…" the Raven haired man clicked his tongue, watching as the gloved hand of Anubis reached out to touch the device.

Twenty minutes earlier…

The sizable group snuck through the maze-like layout of the pyramid, guided not by a map, schematics, but a simple 'point me' spell. For the last half hour, they'd followed Potter as he prepared to execute his asinine plan to rid the world of Anubis. A being that could not be killed in the traditional sense.

"Free Ancient Super Weapon ahead."

Jackson read aloud, translating the final sign outside the throne room from Goa'uld into English. The wizard had been placing arrows the entire time, but this was the first time any sort of script had been used. It was therefore also the first hint the team had received as to what he was actually doing.

The others, who at this point still had no idea what the slightly unhinged Wizard had planned, could scarcely believe their ears.

But Mitchell managed to sum it up pretty well. "You dragged us here, and this is your grande plan?"

Potter shrugged.

"You didn't have to come along." He snapped back, but without any real heat. "If I recall correctly, I simply let you know what my itinerary was for the next two days, and you decided to chaperone." He air quoted the last word, letting them know how unimpressed he was with its use.

"You're going to get us all killed" Hermione hissed, wand out and looking about as paranoid as that time when they'd been on the run in the English countryside.

Oh ye of little faith, he thought, just about ready to activate her port key back to the Spee, which was on station in orbit, cloaked and positioned to destroy no less than twenty-two motherships at a moments notice should the proverbial shit hit the fan.

How, you ask, when the ship only had nine main guns? By lining them up to pierce multiple targets with each shell. The Ha'tak class was the Lada of space ships at this point. They were a dime a dozen and practically fell apart if you looked at them funny.

The group doubled back to the gate room and settled in for the wait, no one actually knowing how long Anubis liked to sit on his throne, or what he did to pass the time. Did the guy use the loo? Or just like to torture hapless Took'ra for his amusement? These were important questions, and if the element of surprise wasn't crucial, Harry would have already asked him directly.

Oh well, maybe one of the servants could clue him in later.


Anubis, uniter of the Goa'uld, sole surviving System Lord, and general evil-doer of the last three millennia tapped his noncorporal finger on the solid gold armrest of the Throne. The other hand held a remote, which he expertly used to navigate the content on the holoscreen that would normally show his domain and active engagement zones, but instead loaded another episode of Brooklyn 99.

The Tau'ri continued to be a major thorn in his side, despite being responsible for the destruction of the Replicators. But damn if they didn't make for a good source of entertainment. He would most certainly keep this creative streak alive and well when he finally conquered Earth.

The loading scene froze at twenty-four percent. Roaring in frustration, he rose, intent on taking a walk, lest he execute more peasant slaves in his anger. They were becoming scarcer with his ever-dwindling territory.

The door slid open, revealing a sign. A very visible sign. Anubis was intrigued. Perhaps all the TV had rotted his brain, or it may just have been the fact that he thought himself untouchable. After all, he had survived the destruction of his flagship over Dakara.

Regardless, he followed the signs.


With a mental command, Potter activated the final symbol in the micro-sized DHD linked to the disillusioned Gate, sitting smack dab in front of the raised platform. He purposely left the silencing charms off the thing to allow Anubis a second to comprehend that he was well and truly fucked. The whitewash of the unstable vortex swallowed the platform, box, and three individuals. And just like that, Anubis was no more.

It worked for Horcruxes and his garbage, so why not on Evil Goa'ulds?

"Well" the Wizard stretched, spine popping a few times. "Who's up for some pub crawling? Carter's buying."

Before anyone could answer, Teal'c came up to Harry, towering over the shorter (who wasn't) wizard, before pulling him into a literal bone-crushing hug.

"Harry Potter. The free Jaffa nation owes you a great debt." Cracks and pops followed, along with a strangled cry. He finally let go, and bowed, one beefy arm crossed over his chest. "You have my gratitude."

Potter coughed hard, managing to wheeze a barely audible; "No sweat, big guy. Hermione, pass me the bone knitting potion, will ya?"


"So your backup plan, should Anubis have actually gotten his hands on the Ancient killing superweapon, was to let the Ancients themselves take care of him?"

"It's brilliant, isn't it?" the Wizard slurred, nursing a half-full beer stein in a crowded bar. "It would have forced them to step in, breaking their own rules and ethics guidelines in order to survive." Then he shrugged. "Or cede the Galaxy to Anubis, with no one stopping him from ascending and ruining the Galaxy as we know it."

Jackson muttered something unintelligible, shaking his head. The good Doctor was possibly the only one who really, truly comprehended just how bad the situation could have turned had the plan failed, having been ascended once himself. Most of those memories were still inaccessible to him, but with Harry's help, they'd had some success in breaking a few loose.

On the other side of the table sat Hermione, staring ahead blankly, sort of following the conversation, but not really. The amount of new information she was absorbing as a result of this outing with Harry was just too much to take in.

And the punches kept coming.

Teal'c was hustling a group of Muggles at pool, and Vala another in Darts. At least they had the common sense not to start something with 'Murphy', and Maldoran's silver tongue soothed any ruffled feathers on her end. Mitchell and Carter were watching, nursing beers and eyeing those that needed further convincing that this wasn't going to be a fight they could win, or even walk away from.

The large table they'd secured had plenty of free seats, but for some reason, the girl who'd just entered the establishment ignored them in favor of hopping on Potter's lap and proceeded to snog him long and hard.

"Hey, stud." She purred. "Just got your message. Your dad let me off work early. I have to say, I'm starting to like this fake daughter in law thing we have going on. He cuts me way more slack than he used to."

The bushy-haired brunette's train of thought completely derailed following that. It was just too much, too fast.

Realization of who she was. The comment about being married? Harry's not so dead father?"

"Just what the bloody hell is going on here, Harry?" she shrieked, pointing a finger at the pair and adding. "You're dead!" in an even higher octave.

Tonks rolled with it, realizing she was from the 'other' side, as she'd begun to classify most of his friends and acquaintances. Heck, Tonks herself jumped back and forth between the mirrors so much, she often had to ask herself what side she was on.

"Ah, right. Hermione, this is Tonks 2.0" he earned himself a smack on the shoulder for the comment. The Metamorph, however, ever the trouble maker, instantly thought of a way to get even.

"Oh, so you're the girl Harry always asks I turn into when we have sex." Potter promptly choked on a peanut he'd just popped into his mouth, and Hermione turned both bright crimson and a little green at the thought.

Jackson, for once not on the receiving end of Harry's jokes, roared in laughter, which in turn drew the attention of the others, the sight of the normally composed doctor losing it an instant flag.

"It was one time," he muttered, which didn't help the situation. Granger, who'd initially thought the mirror was some sort of port key when they stepped through, revised her theory when a woman she'd only ever seen in her friend's photo album walked up, with a shorter, yet somehow familiar redhead in tow.

"We're in another dimension." She deadpanned, before beginning to hyperventilate. "It explains Fred and Mad eye from a few years ago."

Harry was impressed. It took seeing a few dead people for all of a minute, and she'd figured it out.

Lily and Sara too realized that they'd walked in a less than stellar time, and a second later the girl passed out, presumably from information overload.

"Congrats Harry," Tonks said, having observed her head clunk into the table. "You managed to accomplish what seven years of Hogwarts couldn't."

Harry, of course, had told her about Hermione, so the Junior Auror was no stranger to her boyfriend's old flame.

"Technically it was only six." He argued. "We lived in a tent for our seventh year hunting pieces of Voldemort's soul. Oh, hi Lily. Sara."

"Harry." They briefly hugged, the action a bit awkward with Tonks still perched on his lap, and made even worse when she wiggled her bum as he embraced his not quite mom and sister.

"You're real messed up in the head, you know that, right?" he growled in her ear, and she chuckled. "Watch it Harry, I might just accidentally change into someone with red hair then next time we're bumping uglies."

"Oh? And who's to say I won't enjoy…that?" he bluffed, not sure why he'd done so in the first place. It really wasn't his thing, even if… He paled, quickly adding; "I'll be good.", when Tonks briefly morphed into Lily, eyebrow raised.

The morally wrong byplay went unnoticed by the Potters and Jackson, thank the maker for small mercies.

"So, what are we celebrating today?" Lily Potter asked. Tonks had forgotten to do so when she'd arrived, too amused with the new plaything (i.e. Hermione) Harry had brought along.

"Defeated another Super Villain." He stated casually, as though it was an everyday occurrence.

Nodding in understanding, the older Witch joined them at the table. Sara quickly checked over the girl lying face first in the table, before waking her with Ammonia Inhalants of all things. Harry briefly considered asking what other sorts of goodies she kept in her bag, but figured the question would give Tonks more incestuous ammunition against him.

Besides, waking Hermione meant more questions he had to answer.



"So you just decided to hook up with your godson's dead mother?" was the predictable heading the conversation took after more awkward introductions. Tonks knew about Teddy at this point but had yet to meet him. The kid was in his pre-teens now and had a good friend group at Hogwarts.

Dropping Tonks into the mix was bound to disrupt Andromeda and him, and Harry wasn't that much of an ass, at least not to them.

"Oi! It's not like I hooked up the mirror and said; 'Yes, today I'm going to get myself some sweet Metamorph ass'. She was following me under James's invisibility cloak, first when I robbed Gringotts again, and then at the Ice Cream parlor in Godric's Hollow."

"You robbed Gringotts again?" Hermione switched gears, losing the condescending tone in favor of a more worried one. Potter shrugged. "Well yes. To get the cup Horcrux."

"You mean Voldemort is still alive here?" whatever color she'd managed to regain quickly left her again.

"No, not anymore." He reassured. "I did him in at Malfoy manor and blew the place up…again."

"See, I knew it was you!" Tonks shouted, stabbing a finger into his chest. "You never actually confessed, but it's your favorite way of dealing with people that need killing here. Just look at Godric's Hollow lake! Not to mention Cleveland."

"What happened in Cleveland?" Mitchell asked wearily, not sure he wanted to know the answer. Tonks looked at the muggles Harry liked to hang out with, pursing her lips.

"Well, Harry accidentally left a house-elf with the muggles that run this world's version of the Stargate, and they stuffed one of those Goa'uuld into the thing. So Harry strapped a Naquadah bomb to one of his newly minted minions and imperio'd him to detonate it at their headquarters…in Cleveland."

Cam covered his mouth with one hand, absolutely speechless at this point. Harry didn't add that he blew up all of the Lantian Replicators in Pegasus just to track a single measly Al'kesh. They didn't need to know how he acquired the city-ship sitting in the Pacific.

Granger meanwhile lowered her head into her hands, running the fingers through the mane that could not be tamed at this point, even with all of the Shleakeazy in the whole wide world.

Harry gave it even odds that she'd snap in the next five minutes. This was quickly turning into a quick and very dirty recap of his earlier escapades.


The setting was a quiet, breezy and sun-filled bedroom in a sleepy Colorado Springs suburb on a gorgeous spring morning. Quiet because it was Sunday, breezy thanks to some open windows, and bright because the curtains of said windows had been repurposed in a rather unusual way, wrapped tightly around the gagged and very angry Colonel lying on the bed. It was probably quiet also due to the gag, the Wizard mused, picking up his last acquisition, before stuffing her into his expanded and recently cleaned moleskin pouch.

Sam's eyes slowly adjusted to her strange new surroundings. It was dark, but not all-encompassing. Like looking through a t-shirt at the sun. She was resting on a pile of clutter, a mountain really. And she was not alone. Cam, Teal'c, Daniel and Vala were all present, equally tied up in their drapes, or in the case of the two non-earth natives, some SGC fabric shower curtains.

"Hmmfffhhh!" she greeted, because what else can one say in a situation like this? Four similar responses and some sighs concluded their conversation. It would be another hour before they would see the light of day once more, during which the kidnapped team managed to scoot towards some couches resting nearby. They'd spent a good ten minutes prior to that attempting to free themselves on some ornamental Jaffa bladed weapons Harry had picked up during his travels, but their bonds were charmed.

With a mighty heave, the collection of junk shifted, expelling the hapless muggles…directly onto an oversized dinner plate?

Gags loosened, the anticipated complaining session started, going by rank and seniority.

"What the hell Harry!" was Cam's (predictable) opening line, followed by Jackson's; "Do you know how busy I am?"

Teal'c pitched in with a fairly placid; "You interrupted my Keno'reem", while Vala ranted on about missing her weekly taping of 'Sex in the City'.

Sam meanwhile just lamented the loss of what would have been a perfect Sunday, which would have included a nice breakfast, some garden work, and later on a dinner with Jack.

The source of all their woes, meanwhile, was sitting perfectly at ease in a camping chair, sporting a pair of sunglasses and nursing a Budweiser.

The choice of beverage raised some red flags with the group. Harry never drank what he once referred to as; 'filthy American swill', and the shades were reminiscent of a certain former Colonel the older members of the team used to work with.

"Hiya kids!" Harry hollered out in what was a very un-British accent. To be honest, it sounded weird coming from him.

"Sir?" intermixed with "O'Neill" and "Jack?" ratcheted up the WTF factor another notch. They'd all been around the block a time or two, and assuming someone was in another body wasn't that far of a stretch.

"Yeah? What? Something on my face?" he asked when the group continued to stare. Vala fished a pocket compact from her person, handing it over wordlessly. She did all of this while tied up. Somehow.

"Ah, for cryin' out loud!"

Jack's signature complaint rang out loud and clear, further cementing the belief in their heads that somehow, Jack was stuck in Potter's body. How he hadn't noticed, the team didn't know.

"Sir, did Harry kidnap you too?" Carter asked, managing to sit upright as he tried to loosen her bonds.

"Well, I suppose he did. But I've had three days to get over it. The fishing and skid of beer helped." A thumb over the shoulder pointed at a palette (one usually moved with a forklift) of beer, sitting on a dock by the shore.

They had to hand it to the Wizard, he knew their vices. Well, at least Vala's, and to a lesser extent Mitchells. His obsession with Macaroons was well known.

"Mind clueing us in, sir?" Carter asked, eager beaver as always when it came to the O'Neill, no matter what he looked like.

Jack shrugged.

Behind them, someone cleared their throat. O'Neill, ever the Star Wars fan, recognized the getup.

"Boba Fett?" he asked in awe.

"Bingo!" the masked figure growled through the voice synthesizer, pointing not a blaster, but wand at the Air Force Colonel. A second later he too was bound in Ropes.

"Hey, what gives, Harry?" Jack shouted, now finding himself on the same silver tray that held the rest of the crew.

Some garnish was added, and, seemingly pleased with the presentation, Harry unclasped the helmet, his usual messy mop of black hair even more wild from being confined.

"Oh, nothing to worry yourselves about." He stated casually. "Just need you for a few hours as bait."

"Bait?" the worms renewed their wiggling, trying to get out of their unorthodox binds. "For whom? Damn it, Harry!"

Getting answers would have to wait, as a very Ori looking Vessel screamed by. The thing was small, relative to their mother ships. A shuttle perhaps? Regardless, the thing landed a few hundred feet away and a dozen foot soldiers disembarked.

"You're Fett?" a very familiar man with scruffy face asked upon covering the distance. The now fully armored Wizard nodded, and deftly caught a bag whose contents sounded suspiciously like payment to the others.

Harry was about to call out the thirty or so Smiths lying in ambush when Tomin, the guy who'd just forked over the cash, nodded at one of his men, and the guy opened fire on the bound O'Neill.

"What the fuck!" Potter hollered, snapping off an AK that felled the man who did the deed. A second later the rest of the force was cut to ribbons by the Smiths, who'd received orders to ice everyone but the Ori commander. As he watched his unit liquidate, a trio of drones punched through the hull of the ship, detonating it, while the faintly visible Ori mothership in low orbit met a similar fate via Rail gun broadside from the cloaked Spee.

Looking at the smocking corpse of himself, he reckoned that this situation could have gone better. Little did he know that it was much worse than initially thought.

SG1's bonds fell away, and before they could as much as shout out a protest, they were beamed aboard Harry's ship, the infirmary specifically. O'Neill was unceremoniously thrown into the Sarcophagus and the inevitable Q and A session began.

He hadn't even bothered to bind the Ori scrub who'd bunged the whole thing up. Vala was busy tearing the guy a new one. Seems he was her Sugar Daddy while she'd been off trapesing around the Ori galaxy.

Small world.

"So all of this," Cam gestured. "–was to capture this guy?" He glared at Tomin, as Vala had called him, wondering why the hell he wasn't down there with the rest of the Ori stiffs.

Harry, who was still wearing the Mandalorian armor, nodded.

"Take that thing off! How am I suppose to take you seriously wearing that?" Clearly, Mitchell was not a fan of the Star Wars.

Harry, as per usual, refused to comply.

"Mate, we need to find out where the Ori have set up their latest Super gate. You heard Jackson a few days ago. This Ark of Truth thing you've been looking for is still in the Ori Galaxy."

"So instead of working with us, you just decided that being bait was more productive?"

"Correct" was the muffled response, along with a nod of the head.

"Yes, well clearly that worked well. Except for General O'Neill getting shot."

"That was rather unexpected, wasn't it?" Harry agreed. "Oh well, no harm, no foul. He'd be right as rain in a few minutes. Not like the guy hasn't been killed and revived a few hundred times already by Ba'al. What's one more at this point?"

The universe had a funny way of throwing him a curveball, as at that moment the lid of the Sarcophagus cracked open and its occupant sat up, groaning.

"Ahh bugger me." The helmeted wizard muttered. The others stared too. Because instead of finding the O'Neill they all knew and loved, another Harry Potter was staring at them.

Silence reigned. No one wanted to be the one to tell him. Teal'c, acting on behalf of the others, pushed Potter ahead because really, he was the only one who could actually provide an explanation for this Hocus Pocus.

"Ah, hey O'Neill. So it looks like you're going to be stuck like this for a little while." Harry broke the news, having forgotten that anyone under the influence of polyjuice stayed that way if killed. He handing O'Neill a crudely conjured hand mirror.

O'Neill, still groggy from returning to the land of the living, paled.

By unspoken consensus, the infirmary exploded into shouting, arguing, and general protest, mostly directed at Harry, with the exception of Tomin, who wondered what the blazes was going on.

"Alright, so there are a few options available" he started when everyone had calmed down, sounding like a plastic surgeon telling a cougar (and not the feline variety either) how big the silicone inserts could get.

"Go on" an identical voice stated cautiously, arms folded, still sitting cross-legged in the healing chamber.

"Well, we could find a hair of your old self, mix it into another dose of polyjuice, feed it to you, and then…" he paused. "-Effectively kill, then revive you."

"No, thank you." Was the predictable response, delivered with faux politeness.

"Right." Potter quickly moved on. "The other thing I can think of is building you a new body from scratch using the genetic profile the Asgard have in their database from the Mini-me incident(jack hated it when Harry called it that) and transfer your consciousness into it."

Potter rubbed his chin in thought. "You're technically still the same, but we take care of any old injuries, and tune-up things like your soft tissues between vertebrae, arterial buildup, and so on. Basically, you'll feel like you're twenty again."

"See, now that doesn't sound half bad!"

"Then it's settled. We deal with the Ori followers, and on the way back, swing by Ida and pick you up a new skinsuit."

Yes, just like getting milk from the store, isn't it?


Harry left a message for the SGC, letting them know he was about to launch a one vessel raid on into the heart of the Ori Galaxy. The Americans, bloodthirsty lot that they were, eagerly told him to wait for reinforcements and ended up sending only a single 304 class cruiser. Chintzy bastards.

Not only that, someone had the audacity to call the OP the Doolittle raid. While they weren't wrong about the 'do little' part, there was no way he'd let them name Earth's first foray into a hostile galaxy that.

No, this mission would be called; 'The Leeroy Jenkins!'

And it would be perfect.


"You blithering Idiots!" Potter was quoting his favorite motoring journalist, Jeremy Clarkson over the coms as the reports started streaming in.

They'd been in orbit over a planet rumored to once contain an ancient settlement, destroyed by a landslide, looking for the Arc of TruthTM. Now, pickaxe and shovel armed members of SG1 down on the planet, someone on Odyssey had just dropped a little nugget that an honest to god replicator was loose on the Muggle air force ship. How the hell had that happened? Actually, he had a pretty good idea, as he watched the security camera footage after hacking into their system.

If those clowns had just involved him from the onset, he could have used the Pocket Battleship's Asgard sensors to locate the replicator and just beam it into space, before it had a chance to breach containment.

Instead, they'd pulled out the TER's, with not one projectile firearm in sight. The stupidity of these muggles was mind-boggling!

He briefly wondered if one of the Smiths could interface with the thing and shut it down remotely, but didn't want to risk them becoming corrupted. They would be infinitely worse to deal with, and he wasn't about to risk the Spee like that.

"Potter to Odyssey. The replicator has already taken steps to hide itself from my sensors. Suggest you evacuate all non-comb-" from the corner of his eye, the purple flashes of ships exiting Hyperspace stopped his communique dead in its tracks.

The Ori had joined the party.

Before the ship's computer could alert him that they had weapons lock, the shields snapped into place. The biggest perk of the neural link was that he could react as fast as his neurons fired up in the old noggin.

None of the time-consuming commands between crewmembers. Thoughts resulted in action nearly instantaneously. The only thing faster would have been a true and proper Artificial Intelligence. In a way, the Replicators were just that, with the notable exception being that someone had left the 'kill' switch on at the back.

Predictably, the Ori targeted the Spee, likely fully aware of its capabilities. Although if that were true, they'd have hightailed it back into hyperspace.

The shield held firm, multiple bright white beams of energy splashing against it, and the Zero point modules were already busy dumping obscene amounts of power into the capacitors used to feed the MAC's.

"Harry. Are we safe here?" his sole passenger and good friend asked uncertainly.

Hermione once again had chosen a stellar time to visit him, using the Vanishing cabinet in her apartment to traverse the void between galaxies and find herself here. It was a much farther journey than the ones he had with the Asgard on Ida, or even the Weir's office in Pegasus. Without realizing, she'd likely set the world record for fastest commute, ever.

Harry was continually amazed at what those Cabinets could do. Their original purpose was laughable compared to what he was using them for.

But back to Hermione. From her point of view, he was simply standing there, gazing at a multitude of holo screens floating in front of the glass canopy of the bridge, arms crossed.

"Hmm? Oh, certainly luv. Nothing to worry about. At least not for another thirty minutes or so."

Another screen sprang to life, this one showing dozens of hostile red ovals moving across a gridded map, their pulsing blue one at the center.

"Odyssey, be advised that more Ori reinforcements are inbound. Estimate less than half an hour before we'll be up Shit's creek. Five more after that and we lose the paddle."

Actually, five minutes at thirty to two odds was bloody ambitious, even for a ship like the Spee. And the muggle ship was about as useful as a giant, floating space brick.

"Affirmative." Was the cool response. Next, Harry pulled up sensors, which were continually scanning the Daedalus class 304 for power fluctuations, something that would indicate roughly what part of the ship the replicator had set up shop in.

He'd also tapped into their internal coms, and was screening out the mostly useless chatter with an algorithm that focused on human vocal qualities when in distress.

Sure enough, not long after the first reports of sightings started to trickle in.

"Odyssey to the Graf Spee. Request permission to beam all nonessential personnel over to you." This time the voice on the other side didn't seem so composed.

"Granted." Was the response. "Forwarding muster point coordinates now."

He'd been aware of the move ahead of time and powered on life support in the seldom-used lower decks of the ship. A few Smiths were already on station to guide the displaced crew to their temporary accommodations.

Capacitors read as twenty percent charged. Good enough for a few shots. The shield was taking a pummeling but still held strong. The rear number three turret tracked a stationary Ori ship and loosened a single slug from the center 'barrel', punching through the beam dish at the front of the Mothership and existing the other end of the forward superstructure.

Surprisingly, the shot didn't outright destroy the ship, though it did go dark, listing ever so slightly as it vented atmosphere from the two new holes in its hull.

The rest broke off, not wishing to meet a similar fate for a useless cause, seeing that their attacks were ineffective. Harry didn't fire again, wanting to power the capacitors fully. It had been a mistake to leave weapons powered down. Then again, no one thought that the Odyssey's Asgard Core would be powered on either, broadcasting their location to every Ori ship in the sector.

Somewhat of a design flaw, that. His own core certainly didn't have this sort of issue.

The remaining three Ori ships had retreated a safe distance, most likely waiting for the reinforcements. They had twenty minutes to retrieve this damned Ark and hightail it out of here.

"Jackson, have you found it yet?" Harry asked impatiently, briefly redirecting his scanners to the surface, and the shielded area they'd found under the rubble before this OP went pearshaped.

There was no response. Muttering obscenities, he turned to Hermione, who was standing off to the side, out of her element.

"Hermione, I'm going to quickly pop down there and see what the hold up is. You're in charge, all right?"

"What? Harry, no! I haven't the foggiest idea what to do here. Or how to fly this…thing!"

Potter was busy tightening the straps of his dragonhide armor. "Just tell the Smiths what you want to do. Easy peasy." Then, with a flash of light, he was gone.

There were a lot more people on the bridge when he returned ten minutes later, with half of SG1 and a dusty box in tow.

"Granger." He addressed her by her surname, not mad, but seeing an opportunity to tease her and rolling with it. "This is not what I had in mind when I said, 'you're in charge'."

She pulled her wand, ready to hex him for having the audacity to blame her, when he winked, and she caught on.

"You…you man child!" she shouted, stomping a foot down, but reeling in her temper, not wanting to start something in front of two dozen muggles, even if all of them knew about magic. Once again she wondered just how Harry was able to circumvent well-established laws with impunity.

Looking around, Harry realized a few of the stations were manned. Not necessary, but it gave them something to do, so he let them be.

"Somebody want to clue me in?" he asked, already having a good idea as to the why.

The Odyssey's captain stepped forward, extending his hand, which Harry shook. It was all way to formal for his liking.

"The Odyssey's been compromised. All crew members were forced to evacuate to the Spee. We've locked the replicators out of propulsion and navigation, but that won't last much longer I'm afraid."

Potter grunted in response, folding his arms. "And the bloke who started this whole mess?" he didn't want a potential saboteur running around on his ship. The most sensitive areas, of course, were warded with the Fidelius, but that didn't mean the ship was completely tamperproof.

"Secure in your brig, which I must say, is tastefully decorated." The man, despite the situation, cracked a faint smile, which Harry appreciated. He was referring to the multitude of torture devices he'd moved from the basement of Grimmauld Place. They were mostly for show, to make anyone in the cells sweat a little. Of course with this guy, they may see some use once this all finishes playing out.

"All right then." Harry nodded, knowing exactly what to do next. "Unknown to me weapons officer, target the Odyssey and turn her into space confetti."

Watching the woman's eyes widen into saucers was fun, but he was being serious. That ship needed to go. They wouldn't be able to trick the replicators into another Dakara grande finale like last time, mainly because said weapon was a pile of dusty rubble. And once they were done with the Ori, it would be payback time. For being machines, the little buggers could be quite vindictive.

"Harry, don't you dare! That ship is worth four and a half-billion dollars." Cater stressed. "You can't just blow it up."

"I'll buy you a new one!" he argued, fingers blurring over the large crystal display by the Captain's chair. The bulk of the Ori reinforcements were less than ten minutes away now, and he'd like to be anywhere but here when that happened.

"Umm Harry, you do realize that you're pretty much broke, right?" Hermione interjected.

"What? The green-eyed man shrieked, eyes boring into the Chesnutt haired Witch. "How did that happen?"

"I have a pretty good idea." She tapped her lip, rather mockingly in fact. "Tell me, what does one need fifty thousand pounds of Molybdenum for?"

Harry growled. He'd be having words with his financial planner when this was over.

"It's a key ingredient for making superalloys. Do you know how much stress my crystal growing facility is under sitting on a moon-sized volcano? Even Trinium doesn't last indefinitely, you know!" not that she even knew what Trinium was.

Then he turned towards Jackson, having no qualms pulling more bodies into this latest ill-timed spat. "Still think charging the US government for using my ZPM is a rip-off?"

At least the man had the decency to keep quiet. Meanwhile, Potter was left reeling from this latest bombshell. Jesus, he'd need to come up with a way to make money!

"Fine Carter, what do you suggest we do?" he asked, rather passive-aggressively. "The Odyssey is crawling with Replicators of all things, and we've got in excess of thirty Ori motherships about to come down on us like a bag of hammers!"

On cue, four more Ori ships emerged nearby, bringing the total to seven. They'd been slightly ahead of the main force, and their arrival did not come as a surprise, to him at least. The fact that it worked with his little rant was simply a bonus.

Emboldened, they attacked in force, linking up with the other ships already in system, who'd no doubt waited for this very moment.

Up ahead the forward two turrets spun, elevating their gargantuan barrels. Twin flashes of light signaled the destruction of another two Ori's ships, at which point the others again broke off their attack.

The Odyssey crew member had put way to much juice into those rounds, Harry noted with a frown, realizing the capacitors were nearly dry again.

"Sir, remaining contacts are maneuvering away." His new helmsman relayed. As if he didn't already know that from looking out the bloody window!

Potter refocused on Carter, who bit her lip, coming up empty for suggestions. So Harry made a call.

"Cam, target the Odyssey's hyperdrive and pop off a couple of drones if they show any signs of running. We can't let those buggers leave. I'm going to pay that IOA Mugglefucker responsible for this cluster fuck a visit."

With a pop he disapparated.

The others gave each other curious looks, but Teal'c was the one who put it into words.

"That is not one of the usual obscene words Harry Potter favors." The former first prime stated, arms folded behind his back.

Mugglefucker Indeed.

"Alright arsehole, you're going to tell me everything you know or I'll jettison you out of the nearest airlock and use your bloated corpse as a target for my secondaries."

Harry flared his magical aura a little, creating a reddish shimmer that matched his mood.

Marrick paled, watching as the wizard raised his wand, a pale purple sphere of magic pooling at the tip.

Harry returned to the bridge a scant ninety seconds later. "Deactivation code is on the back of the crystal he inserted into the Asgard core."

Everyone was curious as to what he'd done to the IOA representative to get results so quickly but wisely held their tongues. It was mostly out of morbid curiosity, not any sort of worry for the IOA representative. The guy was, after all, a certified asshole.

"Before we abandoned ship, the core room was sealed off." Carter offered. "The replicators shouldn't be able to get inside. Unfortunately, we can't either."

Potter walked up to a bare patch of the hull and waved his hand over it, causing it to leap out several feet. The hidden space held dozens of P-90's and other assorted muggle firearms, no doubt extensively modified with magic.

"I've yet to encounter a shield that can prevent me from Apparating through it." He said confidently, before turning on the spot.

-Only to rebound of a solid dome of energy. He crashed through a non-structural wall on the Tau'ri vessel, mowing over crates and other supplies in the next room.

"CARTER!" he hollered over the coms, having righted himself. The nanites in him were already busy mending the cuts and bruising. "You couldn't have warned me?"

"You didn't give me the chance too!" came the angry response, her voice crackling faintly. Harry was about to fire back when the door to the storage room opened and swarms of replicators entered, attracted by the life sign reading that suddenly popped up on the ship's internal sensors. He used the precious few seconds to pull a half dozen Smiths from his bag and unshrunk them.

Fifty-six hundred rounds per minute made short work of the critters and ensured his immediate safety. With a thought, he pulled up the ship's schematics from the Spee's files to his internal HUD, taking note of the room number and deck. He was three levels below the core and a few hundred feet over. He counted himself lucky, the wall on his left was a piece of the exterior hull.

Suddenly popping into existence in a hard vacuum was not on his to-do list today.

"So when were you going to tell me about the anti-apparition wards?" Potter was making his way to the nearest ladder. Apparently, stairs on starship took up to much room. Cheapskates. The Spee had stairs that put the Titanic's to shame.

"I wasn't." Carter responded, still sounding a bit bitter. "I contacted the American ministry in private and they helped me out."

Wonderful, the wizard flung his arms above his head, realizing the futility of the outburst when he was the only living thing on this tub. "You realize this will just spur me to perfect a wearable version of Atlantis's wormhole drive to get around, right? I very much like my freedom of movement."

"You continually abuse your powers and I've had it up to here with you!" she shouted, handheld out above her head.

The others on the Spee's unusually crowded bridge looked elsewhere, anywhere but the angry Colonel, who reminded many of them of their mothers.

Carter then took a calming breath, focusing on the mission.

"Before you just decided to teleport over there, I was going to suggest adapting one of the Lantian personal shield devises to match the frequency of the core's. It would allow you to simply walk through."

Harry sighed, moving through the bug-infested ship with the Smiths in tow.

"Fine, beam it over when you're done tweaking it. I'll play crowd control for now. Hopefully, it will slow them down a little." He pulled an additional eighteen Agents from the bag and ordered them to sweep the ship. It wasn't a perfect solution but might delay the critters from taking over the remaining systems long enough for him to kill them.

Of course, none of that mattered if the Ori arrived first.

Mercifully not ten minutes later by his approximation, the small green gemlike shield the Lantians used to favor flashed into existence in front of him. One thing was for sure, Carter did good work under time constraints.

In the time it took to tweak the shield the Odyssey's decks were ankle-deep in spent brass and replicator blocks. The shipyard contractors were going to have a field day replacing all the surfaces with bullet holes in them. At least the ones that hadn't been eaten and turned into replicator blocks.

"I'm in. flipping the chip now." Shifting the glass teardrop-shaped crystals on the Asgard control panel, he called up the built-in kill switch the IOA had placed into the design.

Moments later, the Replicators were no more. With a sigh, he gave the all-clear.

"Potter to Emerson, suggest you dock the belly of the Spee with the underside of the Odyssey. We may have the ship back, but the inside looks like Swiss cheese. I don't think she'll move under her own power.

"Affirmative" was his unimpressed response.

From afar, it looked like a lewd nature mating scene as the two vessels connected, before the Spee dragged them both into hyperspace.

As a final 'fuck you', Harry loosed a salvo at the temple complex on a tidal plane down on the planet, overriding the bridge controls with his neural link, and getting the lieutenant there in trouble.


The rest of the mission actually went off without a hitch. Jackson took a few days to figure out what the command input combination was while the two ships floated in the black void between stars. After that, they kidnapped a Prior before forcing him to look into the box once they were reasonably sure they wouldn't believe that Santa was real or something like that.

Their staffs were connected in some sort of weird wi-fi network, and once subjected to the 'truth', the rest followed. Bada bing, baba boom. The Ori were already dead, and now their worshippers saw the light. Literally.

The war with the Ori was officially over.

Several days later...

"O'Neill, for the last time, they didn't mess with your 'package'." Harry scrunched his nose when saying the last word, not comfortable with talking about another bloke's bits.

"It feels different." The older man protested. "It's like I'm perpetually randy. I'm worried I might break Carte-"

"Please stop!" Harry practically begged as they walked down Atlantis's corridors. "I told you, you pretty much have the body of a twenty-year-old. It's only natural your… appetite (another cringe) would increase."

The General grumbled. "There was nothing wrong with it before."

Potter rolled his eyes, stepping in front of the door sensor, which opened to reveal a mob of people dancing, laughing, and most importantly, drinking.

As was the norm when defeating a powerful enemy hell-bent on your destruction, Potter and the members of SG1 partied hard upon returning to Earth. It was almost a tradition at this point. The Anubis afterparty had been more low key, though, in the end, the Pub had burnt down.

This shindig, however, was to outshine all the rest. Invitations had been sent ahead of time, and arrangements made. An hour before the official kick-off, hundreds of Smith replicators acting as chauffeurs pulled up to wizarding and muggle residences alike in modified 'vehicles'. Sleek, black sedans with plush interiors and chilled champagne.

Upon picking up their charges, they took off, in the literal sense, breaking the posted speed limit, then orbit, docking in the Spee's hangar bay, at least for those attending from Harry's original verse.

Atlantis was the final destination because he had no place to host such a magnitude of people on this side. And there were a lot. Potter had decided to invite every Hogwarts alumni from his year, plus dozens more he'd known from either Quiddich, the old defense association, or Auror school. That, plus spouses, and in a few cases, adult children, meant well over two hundred bodies.

On the other side of the mirror, there were the Potters, their friends, JP and Sara's former classmates, Dumbledore, Merlin, and a forcefully kidnapped Sirius Black. Also, the Bones's, who were more than a bit weary after the last party hosted by Harry. The list went on.

There was going to be a lot of questions asked when people eventually ran into their doppelgangers. The thought of two sets of Weasley twins made him shudder in fright.

Thankfully, Harry had liberated the contents of a liquor distribution depot the day before, so they were well stocked. It should hopefully take care of the how's and why's, at least for tonight.

Once outside, their ears were subjected to the loud, rhythmic music thumping away, and O'Neill found out that his hearing was better than ever.

He instinctively sought cover when the giant fireball illuminated the vibrant evening sky, followed by a loud, but muffled boom. The crowd cheered, and, upon blinking the spots away, Jack understood what exactly had caused the noise.

Anchored a hundred yards offshore was an iconic looking vessel, with nine sixteen-inch guns, one of which was smoking.

"Jesus Harry, you stole the Missouri?"

"Borrowed", the wizard corrected, watching the glowing shell arc over the horizon, towards a small, grey spec in the distance. It missed by a good margin, though anyone on deck would have probably received a good soaking.

Down in the magazine, a number of Smiths were busy ramming the next shell into the breach for a drunken Party goer to lob towards some retreating (i.e. fleeing) Australian navy vessels, who'd stubbornly stuck around since he'd landed Atlantis on this slice of paradise.

Making their way aboard, Harry located the instigator of the hostilities. An inebriated Hermione Granger. Oh, dear.

"-and stay out!" She threw the half-full (or empty) bottle off the conning tower, before belching loudly, a pleased look to her.

He should have never given her permission to order the Smiths around because they would actually do whatever she said. With her were Sara and JP, as well as Tonks.

In other words, no appropriate adult supervision to speak of.

"Hermione, I thought we agreed to only use the five-inch secondary's for the guests to play with. And what happened to the practice targets I towed into the shallows?"

Harry's younger brother, alternating between looking amused, and terrified, filled him, and by extension, O'Neill, in.

"She ordered them to load HE shells. Blasted all of them to smithereens within the first five minutes."

Harry's eyebrow rose. It seems his bookish friend had some pent up anger that needed an outlet, in the form of high powered American Naval artillery.

"Carry on then." He nodded and left to find the bar. He was behind, and that just wouldn't do.

On the beach, he found a gaggle of redheads, talking to the elder Potters and Albus. Harry quickly turned the other way, only to be summoned like a flying broom. The indignity!

"Harry, sweetheart." Lily greeted, dripping with faux sweetness. "How come you never told these poor people what you were up to?"

Harry glanced at the pale as sheets Weasleys, wincing. "Because they likely wouldn't approve?" he answered.

"Writing a book my arse!" Ron said loudly, not pleased for a number of reasons. For one, Harry was hogging all of the attention, as usual. Or was it because he owned the glowing, sparkling cityscape at his back? Second, he'd pulled Hermione into his crazy life, and not him.

Harry didn't have time for butt hurt Ron, so he mentally ordered one of the Smiths in the crowd to look like a Veela and distract the sap.

One down, a million more to go!

"Why did you lie to us?" Molly asked, sounding genuinely hurt.

Harry held out his hands. "Woah, woah! Slow down there. I never had any intentions of having dinner with you. I needed to consult Hermione for an important project, and she roped me into it. Lying was simpler than explaining…well all of this."

Seeing their faces, he went on, only succeeding in digging the hole a little bit deeper.

"Do you know how busy I am? In the last week, I've ended a galactic war, swapped out another man's body, and vanquished the space-faring version of Voldemort."

"Wow, dick move Harry. Didn't the Weasleys treat you like one of their own?" James said, not really helping.

"Well, yeah. But were square, aren't we? I brought back Fred!"

The twin on the left with the huge grin gave him a thumbs up, which Harry returned.

"Anyway, I have some rounds to make." He excused himself. "Feel free to partake in any of the recreational activates. Moine's busy lobbing shells over the horizon." On cue, the crash of another shot rumbled across the island, followed by a drunken cackle.

Albus, who hadn't said a word, merely stroked his beard, distractedly trying to line his wrinkled lips up with the straw of his Pina Colada.

"Bartender, one bottle of your finest Fire Whiskey please!" Harry tapped the counter impatiently, looking to lose his sobriety and quickly.

The suspiciously short person manning his station turned. "Teddy?"

"Hiya uncle Harry!" the multicolor haired preteen greeted back. "One bottle of Odgen's, coming up."

Harry accepted the bottle, looking suspiciously at his godson.

"Who let you serve alcohol?"

Teddy pointed at the actual bartender, who was furiously making out with a girl neither of them knew. "Don't worry, I have experience!"

"Experience?" he repeated dubiously. Just what was Andy teaching the kid?

"Yeah. I make drinks for Grandma alllll the time. She says I have a gift."

'Damn it, Andromeda!' he shouted inside his head, before realizing that he to would be driven to drink if he had to care for Teddy.

Potter nodded, flicking a shiny galleon in his direction with a metallic ping. "Carry on, son."

His immediate needs taken care of, Harry surveyed his surroundings, looking for familiar faces, a few of which he recognized. There was one in particular however that was giving him smoldering looks.

Ahh, the younger Delacour. This was not good.

Rapidly typing SOS over and over into the chat box of Tonk's cellphone through the neural link, he prayed she would find him before Gabrielle pulled him into the bushes.

'What?', she finally typed back, the irritation evident through the single word. Harry got a little fancy with his abilities, using the built-in optic in his eye to snap a high-resolution screenshot of the platinum-haired Veela biting her lip seductively, eyes still firmly locked with his. Seems that pesky little life debt from his fourth year was still alive and kicking.

But by god, she was hot!

'Oh' Tonks finally clued in that his hours' old chastity was at risk, before adding; 'On my way, don't start without me.'

What the bloody hell did she mean, don't start without me? His heart thudded loudly as his imagination ran wild, heart threatening to jump out of his chest.

The Metamorph almost made it in time, arriving to see the younger girl devour his lips. Harry stood rooted to the spot, hands high in the air, unsure what to do. Deciding to get some sweet payback, Tonks theatrically pulled the two apart, Harry blabbering incoherently before she slapped him, and much to the surprise of the growing audience, started French kissing Gabrielle instead!

A lot of blokes had tight trousers following that, especially when Tonks morphed into her identical twin halfway through the make-out session.

The French Witch caught on quickly, a small thing such as gender not getting in the way of kissing, especially when her partner had plenty of experience. With puckered lips and flushed cheeks, they parted, leaving the original to coo soft words of praise.

Tonks then glanced at the bewildered Harry, then back at her.

Then, with identical grins, they dragged their practically catatonic host towards the city, much to the ire of the many guests bearing witness to the scene.

Needless to say, the sex was the best Harry ever had.

They re-emerged nearly an hour later, sweaty, exhausted, and sporting goofy grins. Harry decided now was a good time to make his short, but sweet, announcement.

"Aloha every bodddayy" he shouted in butchered American, massive holo screens materializing over the crowded beach, revealing Harry, standing on the expansive balcony with scantly clad arm candy to either side.

"Are we having fun?"

Distant cheering reached the highest tower, several kilometers away.

"Good, good. My name is Harry Potter, your host for the evening. Fear not, I won't keep you long. Just pointing a few helpful things out."

The crowd stilled, listening like the good guests they were.

"As you may have noticed, the serving staff all look the same. Yes, that is on purpose. Help yourselves to some of the food they're offering. It'll help soak up the alcohol you are all no doubt indulging in. Swim if you want. We have charms to prevent drowning. One thing though, clothing is frowned upon. Some of you may have already discovered that when your tops and bottoms vanished."

Scattered laughter followed.

"These items can be collected in the morning from the front desk." Harry made a mental note to construct a front desk, seeing how there wasn't one at the moment.

"Finally, I'd like to point out a few of the evening's entertainment options, the most obvious of which you've been hearing fire for the last hour. The Atlantis slide is now open, should you have the stomach to entertain the idea."

The screen showed a brief overview of the slide, which looked more like a vertical drop from the tallest tower on the western pier. A tiny dot fell down the tube, in real-time, followed by a faint scream audible in the distance.

"The Merepeople are looking for a few more volunteers for the Water volleyball tournament. For those of you who aren't aware, the Pacific cousins are far more attractive than their Scottish freshwater counterparts."

More excited chatter followed.

"Lastly, if and when you undoubtedly succumb to fatigue or inebriation, our staff will whisk you to your sleeping accommodations." He paused. "A word of warning, however. Who you ultimately find yourself waking up with, is up to fate. If you wish to stay out of the dog house, I suggest you turn in with your companion, should you have arrived with one, before we turn you in. He grinned mischievously.

"Now, let me formally welcome you all to Potter Island!"

Cheering, the music started up again, and the holo screens flickered out.


Worm Drive Human testing phase, attempt #1

'Inanimate testing of the device has gone well. The Co-ordinate system took some time to tweak, but organic material transmissions look promising. Likewise, conjured animals seem to make the journey effectively and with no ill effects. Recommend moving onto human testing.

Later that day…

"Don't just throw the bits in haphazardly. What if my leg attaches where my arm should be" the devoid of limbs Wizard complained from on top of the blood-soaked trolley. He was nothing more than a torso and head. Vala rolled her eyes and tossed his other arm in after the first.

"Tell me again why I have to be your lab assistant?" she lamented.

"You're the only one that has the stomach for it. Those useless Tau'ri muggle wimps just pass out half the time or blow chunks all over my lab floor. Also, I pay you handsomely."

"You'd better. I heard that you were flat broke."

"Blasphemy! I'm loaded and you know it." His voice was muffled from lying face down in a pile of his own dismembered limbs. Shit, he needed to get cash soon. These rumors were embarrassing.

The doors of the sarcophagus ground shut and the odd Poke center healing chime began to play. Vala meanwhile wandered off to have a soak in Harry's heavenly bath. The SGC only had showers and she'd need the magical soap to get all the blood off. Besides, it made her skin feel like she was in her early twenties!

Worm Drive Human testing phase, attempt #2

One moment he was fiddling with the interface of the gauntlet on his forearm, perfectly safe in one of the Graf Spee's science labs. The next his eyeballs were bulging from their sockets, his tongue was swelling, and to add insult to injury, Earth was greedily pulling him into the upper layers of the Thermosphere. His white lab coat lasted all of a second before burning away in the early stages of re-entry.

By the time his emergency portkey brought him back to the Infirmary, he looked like the bottom half of a grilled cheese sandwich left in the pan on high for a few minutes too long.

Yeah, good thing he'd charmed the portkey to drop him directly into the high tech healing chamber, 'cause he couldn't even move at that point.

Several hours later he extracted himself with a groan. Vala walked in and sniffed the air. "Harry, have you been thinking again? I smell burnt toast."

Worm Drive Human testing phase, attempt #23

"All right Carter, let's do this!" Potter said confidently from the space she'd cleared in her lab, clad in his best (used) dragon hide combat robes. He didn't want to wreck a new set in case this latest attempt went pear-shaped.

Not that it would! He was Harry god damned Potter.

The Sandy-haired colonel shrugged, as if saying; 'all right, it's your funeral' and activated the harmonic resonation field layered into the standard run of the mill energy shield that prevented him from apparting.

With a mental command, he activated the Worm drive, which hummed happily.

Carter didn't even bat an eye when he disappeared, quickly checking that the field had held. Not seeing Potter on the large taped X that marked the supposed destination, she shut down the generator and resumed her work, uncaring or unwilling to raise the alarm. He'd show up somewhere eventually. He always did. They weren't that lucky.


Harry popped back from the swirling maelstrom of violet energy, stumbling a little when his boots connected with the smooth, polished surface of what appeared to be…a stage? Bright lights blinded him, but he quickly deduced that he was in a very large amphitheater filled to capacity.

Hmm. This certainly wasn't the SGC.

A sea of blue humanoids stared at him, and for once, he was lost for words, instead just looking around wildly to regain his bearing. Catching onto the fact that this was likely a concert, by the truly massive speakers arrayed around the place, he decided to play along.

Pulling out four Smiths from his pouch, he conjured them a drum set, electric guitars, and bass before casting a sonorous on himself and the equipment.

'When in Rome'… he thought, strumming the cords expertly. He'd played this song on Guitar Hero quite often during his self-imposed isolationist years at Grimmauld, and still had it down pat, he was pleased to note.

Haa, Note. Get it?

Not that this lot would know the difference, mind you. But you either did it right or not at all.

"Ah-ah, ah!
Ah-ah, ah!"

The blue-skinned females (he hadn't seen a single bloke since he'd started scanning their faces a half minute prior) looked flabbergasted but quickly got over themselves and into the beat. He couldn't blame them, Led Zeppelin was bloody amazing after all.

"We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow…"

He was pleased to see that the security detail that had been taking steps to pull him off stage paused after the first verse, content to just wait and see. The lyrics certainly got the crowd fired up good, and made him grin.

"…On we sweep with… threshing oar
Our only goal will be the western shore.."

Harry may have unleashed some borderline dark and very potent mood-altering magic on the crowd, mainly euphoria and arousal, further whipping them into a mad frenzy. This served to redirect the security contingents' attention to the mob instead of little ol' him. The stage was a respectable height from the lower floor, but that didn't stop them from trying to come up to where he was and tear his robes off.

"…How soft your fields so green
Can whisper tales of gore
Of how we calmed the tides of war
We are your overlooooooooorrds"

Yeah, in hindsight this may not have been the most ideal song to play in front of a crowd of aliens at what had to be the oddest first contact scenario he could have envisioned. Hopefully, they couldn't understand English.

The Event staff holding back the crowd collapsed under the onslaught of blue flesh, causing a surge of aliens to rush towards the stage.

"Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh" He finished, observing as their limbs glowed blue when the first bodies leaped up the three-meter high barrier. Harry summoned his Replicators just in time. From afar, he couldn't make out a lot of detail, but as they drew nearer, he noticed a striking resemblance to humans.

You know, If humans had tentacles for hair.

Well, time to go, he reckoned. With a faint hum, the Worm drive enveloped him again, whisking him from that realm. Too bad, those birds looked smocking hot. Maybe he could convince Tonks to mimic one when he got back. After all, she'd gotten into the whole Rutian Twi'lek thing a while back after watching Star Wars.

Ahh, good times.


Harry shielded his eyes from the sudden increase in light and donned a pair of shades. This one was pretty weird, he could tell right away.

Over a ways, a person and what could only be an alien were pounding each other in hand to hand combat, only they were doing it in mid-air, paying no heed to something as minor as gravity.

High above, he observed another airborne individual hovering under a large white ball of light, hands stretched out. It eclipsed the sun in illumination by a fair margin and was probably the reason why it was so damn bright.

'People of Earth! Lend me your power!' the voice had somehow negated his Occlumency shields and was broadcasting directly into his head. Looking around, he noticed others standing nearby. They looked a bit rough around the edges but eagerly raised their hands.

Another muggle with an impressive handlebar mustache and afro spoke as well, trying to convince everyone, and he meant EVERYONE, to donate some power. (whatever that meant)

Then these weird little lights began to float up from the people around him, like when Sirius almost got slipped the tongue back in third year at the pond in the Forbidden Forest. It looked like a Dementors smorgasbord to be honest.

Harry shrugged and mimicked the others, making sure to pool some magic around his fingertips. The light raising up around him was a bit larger than the rest. OK, more than a bit. It practically eclipsed the original.

High above, Goku reeled as a massive boost came on top of the countless smaller trickles of power. It shone like a beacon, bright in the night, different, but welcome none the less.

The massive energy ball ballooned to twice its size. With more than enough power to spare, he pushed the Spirit Bomb towards Kidd Boo with everything he had.

Potter observed as the ball of light briefly passed back and forth between the two combatants (he was assuming) like some weird game of Volleyball. The black-haired bloke suddenly screamed and his hair turned bright gold.

In what was probably the most intense destructive event he'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing (and that was saying a lot), the large energy ball flew towards the Pepto-Bismol man and obliterated him…along with any geographical features that happened to be behind him.

The scar left in the earth was a solid mile across and stretched past the horizon. Heck, the clouds were gone, for Merlin's sake.

Harry whistled in appreciation, at which point he was noticed by the others.

"Opps." He muttered, giving them a quick wave. "Well, gotta run."


"Finally!" Harry shouted in excitement, upon taking a moment to study his surroundings, back in Carters lab. She looked up but didn't seem too surprised to see him.

"Made it back then, huh?" Damn, looks like I owe Daniel ten bucks."

"Yeah, whatever," Potter responded, not pleased that it had taken him two weeks and countless verses to return. "Anyway, I'm due for some R&R before attempting to decipher what in Merlin's name happened with the Drive on that last attempt." With that, he apparated to the Spee and took a shower.

Damn, there were bits of Borg in his hair.

Sometime later, he shifted to the other side of the Quantum Mirror, if only to reassure his family that no, he wasn't dead in some ditch, and yes, they would still have to get him Christmas presents. The first odd thing that happened was when he'd tried to apparate to the Potters penthouse suite.

The wards were wonky and tried to stop him. He powered through and found himself looking at a kneazle infested living room containing two old people going at it like the world was about to end.

"Gahhh!" the younger (and far more attractive in his opinion) Wizard screamed, covering his eyes and physically recoiling at the heinous sight. He tripped over a feline in the process, earning him two paws' worth of claws to the calf.

"Bloody hell, who the hell are you Boy?" the presumably male asked.

"Jesus, my eyes. Someone call the Obliviators!" Dear God, It was like watching someone rub two oil-covered prunes together to the sound of smooth jazz.

The old hag harrumphed.

"Seriously." Harry forged on. "Haven't you heard of Polyjuice? What the hell's wrong with you? Also, why the hell are you in my parent's flat?"

"I think you have the wrong place, lad. We've lived here for nigh three years." The old guy said, irritation clear. "Now get out, before I hex you."

Clearly, something was wrong, and he doubted these two could help. As revenge for leaving him with permanent retinal scarring, he threw down a portable swamp and apparated to the edge of Hogwarts. Maybe Lily could explain why they'd given his flat to two old horn dogs.

Making his way up the stairs, someone came from the castle. Three someones's actually.

"Ahh, Harry Potter. How nice of you to come and visit." A familiar and most unwelcome voice hissed.

"Aww fuck," he managed before instinct took over and he leveled his wand at Voldemort. Not that he'd last in a straight-up wand duel against the guy. But hopefully, he could scrape by long enough to pop a few drones and sic a few Smiths on him.

The Dark Lord, who was oddly dressed, froze, though his two assistants McGonagall and …Sprout? raised their wands in kind.

"Seriously, what does it take to put you down?" he asked, wondering what the hell was going on, and why the spells hadn't started flying yet.

"Harry. Put down the wand." Voldemort slowly raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. Harry never thought he'd see that in a million years. What was this, some sort of ass-backward place where Voldemort was the goo-

Wait a minute! Lowering his wand, Harry stormed up to his arch-nemesis, looking him over with a critical eye. It certainly looked like snake face. Pale skin, no nose. Blood red eyes. But he wasn't wearing a black cloak. And a very distinct pin on his robes.

"Are-are you the headmaster here?" he asked indecorously. Voldemort frowned, mainly because of the implied tone.

"Of course. You know this. What's going on?"

Harry nodded with a stiff lip that would have made judge Dredd proud, before eventually conjuring a pillow. With a deep breath, he screamed into it for all he was worth. It was either that or Crucio someone, and the latter was frowned upon in general.

Voldemort and his former teachers just stood there, dumbstruck.

He resurfaced red-faced and panting slightly after repeating the action a few more times, switching from plain screaming to cursing in English, Goa'uld, Klingon and Parcel tongue. Riddle's eyebrow rose in amusement at the last one, being the only one to hear thanks to his ritual enhanced hearing.

Crap, he wasn't home at all, was he? And even worse, he was somewhere where Harry Potter and Voldemort were chumps.

"Morgana's festering toenail fungus!"

"Mr. Potter, watch your mouth!" McGonagall screeched, her face having taken on a hue of color. Sprout was dry heaving on the other side of Tom.

Despite the situation, he felt pleased. It took a lot to get a Scot to blush, much less one as hard-core as his former head of house.

"Tell me, if you're the good guy, does that mean Dumbledore and his Order are the evil berks around here?"

Riddle frowned, perhaps finally catching on that this may not be the Harry Potter they knew.

"Of course. He and his 'Followers of the Phoenix' have been terrorizing purebloods for years now. You've made it your mission to hunt down your own parents and siblings to restore the glory of the Potter name."

"Fuck this." He responded in lieu of an answer. "Fuck everything." He portkeyed back to the other Harry Potter's Atlantis, grabbing some useful shit for what he hoped would be only a few month ordeal, before hightailing it back through the mirror, grabbing even more stuff from the Spee, then apparating down to Carter's lab and fumbling with the power setting on the Worm drive.

"Fuck!" he shouted again, moments before popping out of this existence.


"All right, what fresh hell is this?" the dimension-hopping Wizard asked himself, looking over what could only be called a Wasteland. Now, usually, the term was synonymous with desolate, but this place was anything but.

In fact, it was rather lively, judging by the thousands of tracers, missile contrails, and explosions lighting the place up. First order of business was, of course, placing a shield between himself and all this destructive hoopla, of which there happened to be a lot of at the moment.

Speeder bikes, gliders, and was that a big fucking air carrier in the sky? All gunning for a motley collection of… vehicles coming from the other directions.

Just where had he landed? It was dark, with the gray, overcast sky lightening slightly, either heralding dusk, or dawn. He neither knew, nor cared.

A sleek, pink hovercraft two hundred yards to his left was forcibly launched into the air by an explosion and promptly shot up, actually landing in three pieces. A similar thing happened to a golden yellow Trans Am, though it only flipped on its side, escaping destruction.

Whatever occupants they contained looked like their tickets were about to be punched, and probably would have if it weren't for the ground giving way on the other side of the bowl-shaped depression he, and by extension, they, found themselves in.

Out the hole came…a blob. Yes, that was the best description of it. A huge, glowing yellow thing with no eyes and a mouth, it's head oddly similar to the pod on a beluga whale, pulsing a menacing purple. It unleashed a baby like wail, and a moment later, the far side of the caldera exploded in a blue flash.

Yeah, screw this. Potter powered up the worm drive, getting ready to hightail it out of here. The giant baby screamed again, blasting a multi-hundred-meter hole in the earth.

The air carrier ballooned outward soon thereafter, meeting a fiery end.

That thing was bad news bears!

It was a good thing then when a ruby red beam of light fell from the ski, obliterating it, and pretty much everything else in a one-mile radius. The shockwave forced him to transfigure the ground immediately around him into a shallow, circular pit, the displaced earth morphing into sturdy, angled walls and a roof to form a temporary, but much-needed bunker.

Half a minute passed, and the roaring wind above subsided. Harry, like a mole, popped his head from the ground, taking in the spectacular devastation there, before spotting movement to his left.

Oh good, those others were still alive.

With the show over, he held off on jumping, at least for a few minutes. Somewhat cautiously, he walked over, finding a man and a woman, both dressed oddly, around the Trans Am.

"Hullo." He waived, hoping they'd be able to tell him where he was. While this wasn't his ideal stop for a break, Harry had concluded thirty consecutive jumps, and simply needed a break. Besides, this place was lively.

"Who're you?" the girl asked, and rather bluntly.

"Just a random bloke, passing through-" he looked around. "-town? Though, I am curious what going on…"

She blinked, and the other person with the hairdo poked his head over the fender of his car.

"Hey, good timing. You wanna help me turn this thing over?" he waved Harry over, hoping to right the machine. It was heavily modified.

Harry shrugged, pulling the holly wand.

"Stand back."

The car lifted with a groan, and he expertly rotated it, wheels down, onto the ground.

"Hey, sweet. I didn't know you were from Supergrass!" he whooped.

The reaction, to Harry, was odd. Do they know about magic? And what was Supergrass? Perhaps he'd stick around here for a little bit, and figure out what sort of magic this place held.

While he was pondering what to do, the duo agreed on something, just out of earshot, and hopped into the single-seater together.

"Hey, thanks for the help, but we have to get going. Got a race to win!" The man shouted from inside, before taking off.

His timing was good, as the yellow thing decided to make a comeback.

"Race?" the Wizard liked the sound of that. Pulling the angry little Ford Angela from his bag, which, by the way, had been a right bitch to recapture, he took off after his new acquaintances, towards a narrow gorge and leaving this strange place.

A few minutes prior, one of the hundreds of airborne recording units providing coverage to the Redline event captured an odd sight, just before the Bioweapon made its appearance. A human male, who appeared seemingly from nowhere, simply sprung into existence in the Galaxy's most dangerous warzone.

While Funky Boy had quickly stolen the show, a small team of analysts was busy running facial recognition software on the young man. A quick memo reached the event organizers, before filtering its way up the chain of command until finally reaching the reigning Monarch of Supergrass.

The deceptively young girl, sporting oversized shades, reviewed the footage, but it wasn't until the human sequestered himself in his hastily created bunker that her interest piqued.

How very interesting. Taking control of the system, she overrode the event coordinator and his team, focusing her own, and by extension, the billions worth of viewers, attention to the newcomer, who was chatting with the two other contestants.

With his help, Sweet JP and Cherry Boy hunter proceeded to flip the formers overturned racer, and the two sped off.

He then produced his own set of wheels, seemingly from nowhere.

"How curious." The queen muttered as the sky blue car took off, fleeing from the rapidly recovering Funky Boy, and his new opponent.

Harry whooped in joy, swerving to avoid a missile fired by one of the latecomers. He reciprocated with dual 20 mm auto canons, which hosed down the offender, forcing them to back off. Harry was surprised that they withstood his return fire, but couldn't dedicate any more time towards the subject as he came upon more racers.

The relatively small yellow missile, practically a rocket on wheels, was followed shortly by an even smaller, less streamlined blue speck.

"Ho, ho, hoooo" the small, square-headed announcer with three bowties leaned forward, sounding both surprised and excited.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have a new contestant! Who is this mysterious racer, where did they come from, and just how much horsepower is in that little car they're driving?"

Beside him, his helmeted partner pulled up some information, supplied through a datapad by the lightning-fast support staff.

"It's an old Human design, well over two centuries old. The maximum top speed…" he leaned forward, looking confused. "-it says sixty miles an hour."

Bowties blinked a few times. "Well, it's going a little faster than that, my friend." On the screen behind them, the little blue car just lurched forward again, passing the Super Boin's.

Harry almost crashed into the wall upon seeing the two smoking hot birds in their unzipped jumpsuits, only just managing to recover. As he pulled up next to the cigar-shaped racer, the vehicle tried to prevent him from passing. Harry found an opening, then rolled the window down, and greeted them in the proper English way.

The 'Wanker' road gesture, which was all in the wrist.

He was pleased to know this tried and true tradition, steeped in history, was universally recognized, as the large, blue eared humanoid gave him the two-fingered salute and began shouting angrily.

With the second to last hurdle out of the way, it was time to smoke the massive flat-headed cyborg, and the Trans Am he was ahead of.

Their previously orange contrails, just before the final stretch, suddenly turned blue, and they rocketed off. Switching to the jumper nacelles meant for flight, he followed, hot on their heels.

"Both Machine head and the JP/Sonoshee racing duo have activated their steam lights!" the announcer bellowed. "And right behind them, the mysterious latecomer is looking for an opening! What a race! What a lineup of racers! We've seen it all! Action, romance, and most importantly, top-notch driving!

Harry had never pushed the little car this fast before. The steering wheel was positively shaking, every little bump in the road (if it could even be called that) amplified by the breakneck speed. The airspeed sensor put him in the low four hundreds and still climbing.

At that speed, should the aerodynamically shaped shield fail, the air resistance would shear the body panels of the car, and the sudden deceleration would snap the seatbelt and launch him out the front windshield. He gave it even odds that it would break, because the volume of air impacting it may just hit him in the face first. And yet, despite all that, he was still not able to pull away from the other two.

The Trans Am at this point was nothing more than an engine with a seat, having lost the rest of its body to a grappling hook fired by the same arseholes who had the audacity to launch that missile at him earlier.

The robot had transformed his arms into a wheel, technically making him a Trike.

Up ahead, a giant, pink ship breached the surface like a submarine did an ice pack, creating a ramp that led to the top of the area's largest structure, a monolithic tower covered in red paint.

Machine head plowed through the displaced rubble, creating a corridor for the other two, in hot pursuit.

"It's a three-way, neck and neck finale!" the announcer was losing his shit, along with a majority of the viewers.

The chrome bumper of the Angelia nudged forward, then the nose of the Airmaster, and finally the front wheel of Machine heads body, alternating, trying to claw just a few inches of lead over the others. Suddenly the engine of JP's car blew, giving him, and his passenger an extra boost.

JP won by the tip of his Pompadour.

For those of you that weren't familiar with the word, it meant weird hairdo.

"Riggeeeddd!" Harry shouted loudly, as he and the other contestants crossed the finish line, suddenly suspended by magic so thick, he could practically taste it.

Extracting himself from the car's driver window, he floated there, as the other racers crossed the finish line in short order.

Several of them instantly began picking fights, though not much more than hollering and insults were traded.

"Trava, you asshole! How could youuu?" a man with no lips or eyelids cried, quite literally. The blue eared one, presumably Trava, reciprocated colorfully, though without the waterworks.

They were certainly a lively bunch.

Meanwhile, the winner of the race was in a hot and steamy make-out session with his girlfriend. Or were they rivals?

Next thing he knew, Harry stood on a podium, on the lowest tier, and receiving attention from a gaggle of scantly clad women. Seeing how their winner already had a female companion, and the runner up was a robot, they practically swarmed the young (and by comparison quite attractive) man.

A mob of reporters, including species he'd never even laid eyes on, filed into the space. Predictably, questions came next.

"Who the hell are you?" a chubby, pink-faced tub of lard asked, microphone held out, nearly in his face. Harry would have been annoyed if his arm wasn't sandwiched by a pair of knockers, while another half dozen hands roamed over his dragon hide robes, and not really staying above the belt either.

"You weren't officially part of the race." An honest to god dog asked next, reminding Harry of Sirius. Heck, the mutt even looked and sounded like him.

"How did you end up on the podium?"

"Err, please defer all questions and comments to my Agent." Lo and behold, a single Smith stepped into the limelight, allowing Harry to bow out, much to the displeasure of the hot birds.

The worm drive hummed happily, and Harry vanished, having summoned the replicator back to him just before he winked from existence.


Sam leaned against the stainless steel worktop, sipping on a cup of coffee while her latest simulation ran its course.

Off in the corner, something caught her eye. Or rather someone. Damn, she'd hoped for at least a few days at least.

"Christ Harry, you look like shit." She said, looking the rag wearing Wizard. He looked half-crazed, with a beard that was truly a sight to behold. "And you've only been gone for…thirty minutes." She sighed. "What happened?"

"Carter" he whispered in a low, raspy sound. "I've seen things. Terrible things. It's been years! So many verses!"

By the time he'd made it to another Stargate command, he'd been jumping for what felt like forever. The facility was a dark, wet and damp hole in the ground, but he recognized it regardless. He then used a secret and highly illegal Lantian Time Machine that he'd nicked from the other Harry Potter (who was buddies with Voldemort of all things) and jumped back one year.

Seeing no change in the state of cleanliness, he repeated the process and was rewarded with working lights and air conditioning. Roaming around the various unoccupied labs, he located a work station and checked the date. Doing some quick math, he made one final jump.

Merlin, what an awful experiment this had been. He didn't even care if it wasn't his exact verse at this point.

Potter tossed the Worm drive in the rubbish bin on the way out.

"Years?" she repeated, not sure whether to believe him or not.


"Ok Hermione, how much do I have left?" he asked with morbid curiosity a few days later, finally dedicating some time to address this most serious of issues.

His net worth.

Hermione shrugged, pulling out her mobile and loading the goblin banking app. Yes, you heard that right. The goblins had joined everyone in the twenty-first century. She slid the phone over towards Harry.

"Son of a –" he muttered after a full ten-second pause, before looking up. "I didn't think they let you have a negative balance."

"Most people simply have enough common sense to realize that they charge horrendous interest, and should you fail to pay up? Well…" she made a throat-cutting motion.

Personally, Harry wasn't overly worried about the goblins. He could just rain down an orbital bombard and call it a day. But that was usually frowned upon, so plan B it was.

He'd given it some thought, and this way seemed like the quickest way to raise some much-needed funds.

That interest rate was per day by the way, not year.

"Excuse me for just a moment."

Harry pulled his trusty time turner and spun it back a full day. Since the conference room on the Spee was seldom used, the only blur was when his guests (yes, SG-1 was here too) entered by walking backward. The lights quickly flicked off, leaving him in near darkness, save for the gently glowing inscription on the thin rings surrounding the hourglass.

Not one to waste time, Harry mentally connected to the ship's beam sensor suite and transported himself to…Central America? Mexico to be accurate.

Walking down the dusty street of a random midsized city, he quickly found a promising target, in this case, a low-level drug dealer. With a quick Imperio, the Hombre told him where to find his buyer.

One shabby apartment with far too many bullet holes in its block walls later, he sought out that dealer's supplier. That trail led him to progressively wealthier surroundings and through well over a dozen individuals until he finally found himself in front of El Chapo himself, the infamous head of the Sinaloa cartel.

Now Harry could have just used the Imperius on the guy and ordered him to funnel funds into Harry's accounts, but Potter estimated that ninety percent of his holdings were liquid. And because it was drug money, most was in the form of cold, hard cash, scattered in heavily fortified safe houses, villas and in one case, an honest to god army base.

With locations in mind, he set to work. For this mission, he'd brought his largest expandable bag, but even he was impressed at just how much the thing could hold.

Harry singlehandedly financially crippled the organization and its primary rival, the Los Zetas, in the same afternoon, without breaking a sweat.

Donning a pair of shades and wearing a traditional Guayabera, he showed up at the Gringotts Central America Brach and asked to see the branch manager. In his office, the wizard upended the bag and dumped almost exactly twenty-three metric tons of hundred dollar bills on the creature's desk.

"Senior Potter! No, stop-mpppppfff" the sharply dressed manager disappeared under an avalanche of greenbacks.

How much volume does that much currency take up, you ask? Well, the goblin took ten minutes to surface. And he could touch the ceiling, which happened to be eighteen feet tall.

"Let's make a deal", Harry said loudly from a conjured wooden canoe, which sat on top of the sea of paper. "You and your employees finish counting this money here by tomorrow at noon, and transfer it to my accounts at exactly three twenty-two pm local time, and you can keep ten percent."

The wizard put on a pirate hat and hoisted the Jolly Rodger. The goblin back stroked his way over and reached up. Harry bent down and accepted the handshake.

"Deal" the greedy banker grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

"What did you do?" Granger shouted a second after he walked back into the conference room the next day. A mere ten seconds had elapsed since he'd 'vanished'. To SG-1 it wasn't anything new. Heck, at this point, they could even spot the difference between his teleporting and simply going back in time at this point.

"Nothing. Well, not nothing." He sat back down and pointed at her phone. "Check the accounts again." He said with glee. Hermione's brow scrunched with trepidation before her eyes nearly bugged out.

"Merlin Harry, how…" she stopped, folding her arms over her very nice (in his opinion) chest. "Who did you rob?"

Jackson picked up the cell and looked at the numbers. "Is this pounds sterling?" he asked, before handing the phone over to Cameron.

"Wowsers, that's a lot of numbers. Longer than my phone number, I reckon." The Colonel said, showing his farm boy colors.

Harry just smirked, but produced a decked out Colt 1911 from his robes, and placed it on the table. "Same people that had this. It's quite gaudy, but sort of works in its favor if you ask me."
The pistol was golden, with diamond-studded ivory grips. The sights were actually small rubies.

Sam hefted the gun, surprised by its weight. "Is this solid gold?" she muttered. "It's incredibly heavy."

She noticed some etching on the side of the gun.

"Sinaloa?" her eyes widened in recognition, having caught the name numerous times over the years on the news when she wasn't on base. So did Hermione it seemed.

"Honestly Harry, a drug cartel?" she huffed, shaking her head.

"What?" he defended. "They're not exactly saints. I did the world a favor."

She sighed.


"Harry, why in Merlin's name did you drag us to Godrics Hollow Lake?" James asked, not wishing to be reminded of their old home's untimely demise.

The hole they'd made had filled up nicely, and already there were enterprising muggles capitalizing on the new Lakefront available to them. They'd built some rather impressive looking houses along its shores.

Instead of explaining, he handed his Mom and Dad two pairs of binoculars. "Look towards the center of the lake." They did. And then their chins hit the floor.

"You'd better not be messing with us, Harry!" Lilly half sobbed, trying to sound threatening.

In a rare moment of complete seriousness, he shook his head but never lost the smile.

"C'mon, I'll side along you over there."

With a crack, the trio appeared on a respectably sized island that held a single house. The Potter Cottage of Godric's Hollow.

"How?" James whispered, taking in the exterior. There were the familiar marks from when he'd visited as a boy and accidentally morphed the swirl finish stucco into a dog his parents wouldn't let him have. He noted that some newer mementos from JP and Sara were missing, however.

"It took a bit of work to shrink the whole house, but I didn't think I'd ever use it over in the other place."

Of course, there was going to be some head-scratching as to where exactly the Potter museum had disappeared to, but he didn't really give a damn about that. In the last few days, he'd painstakingly reintroduced all the items they'd hastily packed up when Dobby'uld laid siege to Godric's Hollow. Tonks helped him a bit, but for the most part, it was a solo operation.

"Consider it an apology for being such a huge pain in your behinds up until now." He said, gazing past the shore and at the glistening water.

"Oh Harry, thank you, sweetheart." Lily Potter hugged her son, and moments later James joined in. Harry for once remained silent, not wanting to ruin the moment. They broke apart a few moments later.

"I made a few changes to the place. You have a transporter that's hooked directly into Atlantis's grid now. No more portkeys. Trust me; you don't even feel this baby."

They laughed at his antics, well aware of his dislike for most magical modes of transport, but continued to walk around the house in wonder. Obviously, some things were different, but it felt right none the less.

It was that feeling of coming home.


Harry was lounging in the fully transparent Jacuzzi sized tub he'd commissioned on the main mast of the Graff Spee, looking out of the fishbowl shaped reinforced glass.

Convincing the Asgard to add such a flashy feature had been a pain in the arse, but well worth it. Down below, the hull of his ship jutted out several hundred feet, giving him a Birdseye view of the entire deck, and whatever lay beyond. He'd taken the ship for a bit of a tour into Deep space.

Upon dropping out of hyperspace, he'd saved Tonks from the paperwork monster on her desk and pulled her across the mirror for a relaxing soak.

The view was stunning. Their galaxy, the Milkyway, floated lazily ahead, bright enough to illuminate their faces with light that had taken hundreds of millions of years to traverse the distance to their current location, a massless void of nothing.

It made him feel insignificant, despite everything he'd experienced in the last few years.

The Goa'uld were all but gone now, and a strong healthy Jaffa governing body was in charge of much of the Galaxy. Sure, there were still issues with the human populations they'd up until recently oppressed, but diplomacy was never his forte, and therefore someone else's problem.

Formerly oppressed slaves formed colonies and trade was beginning to pick up. The last of the Ori worshippers had been relocated to their former Galaxy after being shown the Ark of Truth. It seems Adria had not retaken human form after Harry had poisoned her. Or if she had, she was simply keeping her head down.

In Pegasus, Atlantis still stood strong against the Wraith. The Muggles were dedicating more and more resources to the job of waging the war there if only to snuff out the threat of another attack by the Insectoid species.

In the not so far future, Harry would probably take the ship there to lend a helping hand. On the other side of the Mirror, Earth held equally firm. They hadn't taken care of the Goa'uld there quite yet, but every day things looked up.

With a flick of his wrist, the Champagne bottle floated over. The cork made an odd sound as it impacted the dome.

"So, any special reason for this?" Nym asked, accepting a glass of the sparkling liquid before leaning back into Harry's bare chest.

"Hmmm," he hummed in appreciation, relishing the feel of her bottom in his lap. "It's just been a hectic couple of months. I figured we should take some time to relax."

She purred in agreement and took a sip. He took the action as an opportunity to perform a wandless switching spell with some of the champagne. With a barely audible clink, the ring he'd held in his hand hit the bottom of the glass. For a brief moment, the fizzy carbonation of the champagne he'd switched tickled his palm, before dissipating into the hot water.

Tonks must have heard because the contents of the glass were scrutinized a second later. He heard her gasp.

"I figure since we were pretending anyway, why not make it official?"

Without pulling away, she turned around, effectively straddling him. A few strands of hair had escaped from her messy bun, which tickled his face.

"Oh, you are going to get so lucky tonight." The kiss made Harry see stars. Well, more of them anyway.

Life was good.


A/N: Leans back in chair and sighs. Ahhh, all done. And what a ride it was. The plot may not have been much, but I hope it entertained you, readers, enough to stick with it. I want to thank each and everyone that sent me messages of encouragement, support, or criticism. They were all appreciated. Many of you took the time to point out errors, and I hope by the time this is up most of them have been ironed out.

Until next time!