nevermore is a new beginning

By unperfectwolf

Archive: let me know first, yes?

Rated: PG13

Warnings: Character Death(s)

Fandom, Pairing: Harry Potter/Star Wars Crossover, Gen: Harry Potter

Summary: There's something to be said for being able to speak the same language as one another.

Disclaimer: not mine, never was mine, never will be mine. all is jk rowling's and george lucas'.

For: Mijan, because at Lumos she told me to write "Star Wars/Harry Potter: The Millennium Falcon crash lands in Scotland" and so I did.

Word Count: 732

Authors Notes: Title from the song "In The Kingdom Where Everything Dies, The Sky Is Mortal." Far shorter than I thought it would be, and I tried to keep going and go back and add more once I found the end, but everything looked and sounded wrong so I gave it up as done.


They sent Harry Potter because he wasn't afraid of anything. Or, at least nothing tangible anymore. He had agreed to go before they could even finish telling him about the case, something that made his boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt, frown as the younger man walked away.

Sometimes he wondered what Harry Potter would have turned out like if Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had lived. He knew that his few and far between friends – mostly the kids he'd gone to school with, the one's that had survived – tried their hardest to keep Harry from receding even further from the Harry that they had all known so long ago, and could also tell that they knew that they were fighting a loosing battle. They were slowly drawing away from him, slowly just stopping and watching him from a distance, but still none of them were quite ready to give up.

When Harry came to the wreckage it was still smoldering. A large fuzzy creature – a walking carpet, Harry mused silently to himself – was attempting to raise itself to it's hind legs. Blood dripped from wounds on it's head, chest and shoulders, one of which was over laid by a long belt holding what Harry knew to be ammunition for some sort of muggle weapon. It might have scared him, back before the war. And if it hadn't been so unstable, or so injured, he might have been startled by it now. Might have, but probably not. Not much startled him these days.

The creature saw him and let out a loud yowl, stumbling forward onto all fours again. The yowl brought a man staggering from the wreck in what could have passed as the pants that the American cavalry wore centuries prior, and he too had cuts on his face, and a large red stain on his left side. He was holding a strange looking weapon in his hand, something related to the muggle gun.

The man began to speak to him, lowly and evenly – dangerously – in a language Harry had never come across. He muttered a standard translation charm, and had to hold back his surprise when it didn't work. He was careful not to show any again when a more technical translation charm fell flat. Just where was this man from?

The man finished speaking, and Harry shook his head. He too spoke in a low voice, dangerous but soothing, "I don't know a word of what you just said. And that can't be normal, because the last translation charm should work on every language with out much trouble. Hermione did help make it, before she died. And everything Hermione did works near too well."

The man was looking at him with a confused gleam to his eye. Harry didn't know if the man had understood a word of what he'd said, though he'd supposed not. Harry did, however, recognize what the man could do with the weapon he had leveled at him. With out much thought, he flicked his wand and muttered a summoning spell.

The weapon flew from the other man's hands, Harry reaching out with a seeker's reflexes to catch it. "Can't have you shooting this thing off, now, you understand?" he told the man conversationally.

The fuzzy carpet creature growled something out that the man responded to. The creature said something back, defiantly it seemed, and charged Harry. Before the creature got too far, Harry had let off a strong stunning spell.

The creature fell into a heap, the sound of a bone snapping loud enough for even Harry to hear it. The man's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. Harry watched him carefully.

The man didn't surprise him when he brought a second gun up. He didn't give him a chance to shoot, didn't give him a chance to talk, just set off the spell he'd once told himself he'd never use. "Avada Kedavra!" He turned and sent a second one to the fuzzy creature. He waited for a moment before he began to search the rubble for more life forms. When none was found, he Apparated away to tell his boss the site was clear for whoever was cleaning up.

In a galaxy far, far way a Jedi and his sister frowned as the force whispered into the ears, not sure what it was trying to tell them, but knowing that somewhere something had gone wrong.

Finished 8 August 2006