Summary: While researching his family tapestry, Harry finds himself a new relative on his father's side and somehow he finds himself in Korea during the Korean War -er- Conflict in 1952. AU and Crossover with M*A*S*H.
A/N: This little plot bunny wouldn't go away. I had hoped to make it a one shot but we'll see. It is based on an original episode which aired in the seventh season on Nov. 1978, and was told through the point of view of a wounded soldier who was shot in the throat. My story will be told from Harry's point of view.
Tell me what you think? Reviews are welcomed, flames aren't.--GF and the Frau
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the TV Series M*A*S*H belong their perspective writers, authors, producers, etc. We just want to play in their world. If you do not recognize any character in this plot bunny, then assume we made that person up.
Harry J. Potter meet Col. Sherman T. Potter
Harry Potter groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness. He really did hate taking port-keys. He really did.
As he tried to sit up, an arm jerked him back. "Stay down!"
That was when Harry noticed two things, it was very noisy and he hurt. The chaos was deafening around him. Shrill whistling sounds screamed overhead. It seemed as if the sky itself was falling, only to end in a huge explosion of dirt and debris. Just where in bloody hell was he?
The second thing he noticed was that he hurt everywhere from the tip of his messy black hair to his littlest toe, but especially his head.
"What in Sam Hill is a civilian doin' in a war zone?" came the voice again. "Never mind! Medic! I have wounded!"
Harry groaned as the shout pierced the pain in his forehead like a red hot nail.
"Stay there! I'll come to you!" called another voice. "How bad off?"
"Head wound! Conscious! Bleedin' like a stuck pig!"
Harry groaned again. He wished the guy would just shut up. It was worse than the morning after he and Ron had gone drinking after they graduated Hogwarts.
"Easy! Stay wit' us, buddy, "came the second voice. "What's youse name, pal? I just can't call ya 'hey youse'."
Harry tried to focus his eyes on the face that went with the strange accent appearing before him. He thought he could detect a Yank's accent. "Harry. . . Harry Potter. . . Where. . . ?" Harry muttered incoherently.
"Hey over here! Bring da stretcher. Got us a wounded Brit civie over here! Come on Harry stay wit' us!"
The next thing Harry knew he was in a bouncing muggle vehicle. Moans and the smell of blood filled the air around him stirring memories of the final battle at Hogwarts. He didn't have his glasses and he couldn't reach them as he was strapped to a stretcher.
The vehicle came to a stop jarring his already pounding head even more.
A disembodied voice was blaring. "Wounded! We have Wounded in the Compound. All shifts report to OR! On the Double!"
The back of the vehicle was jerked open and people wearing long white coats and green pants poured in.
A very blurry face leaned closer while hands prodded his wound, startling him. The face turned slightly to shout, "This one has a head wound. Klinger! He'll need x-rays."
"This one needs to be in OR stat!" came another voice to one side of Harry.
Harry drifted in and out of consciousness as he was poked, prodded, x-rayed and cleaned up. Then he was carried to a small cot in a very long room with other cots. Some had a person in them, a few were empty. After Harry was tightly tucked in, he was finally allowed to sleep.
"Harry?" A lovely lady with bleached blonde hair was calling his name. "Harry? Wake up Harry."
"Wh. . . who are you?" he asked, searching for his glasses.
She smiled as she handed them to him. "Well I am Major Margaret Houlihan and I need to get some information about you. You are Harry, right? That is the name you gave the field medic when they found you."
"Yes Madam Houlihan," Harry said weakly, wetting his dry lips, not noticing the offended look she gave him. "May I get have a drink of water?"
A glass was pressed to his lips. The water was tepid and had a sour taste to it but it was wet. "Thank you. Where am I? How did I get here?"
"That's what we would like to know, son," came a gruff voice at the foot of his very narrow bed. "Colonel Sherman T. Potter, Company CO. Welcome to MASH 4077, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked up, spotting an older gentleman with white hair and glasses wearing Army fatigues. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind,the man's name sounded familiar. "Harry James Potter. I think we are related somehow," Harry said, closing his eyes, rubbing on his bandaged forehead.
"Easy son," the Colonel said with concern in his voice. "You have a head wound. We'll talk later. Margaret."
Harry nodded as he drifted off.
When he woke and could see again, Harry turned to see a round faced young man wearing glasses holding a clipboard.
"Oh gosh. Here, let me help you. Oh golly gee, I'm sorry to wake you Mr. Potter. But I need information," he stammered shyly, pulling a pen from his green knit cap.
There was a vague feel of magic around the young man telling Harry that this person was probably a Squib. "Wh. . .where am I? Who . . .who are you?"
The man smiled, looking around then back at Harry. "Corporal Walter O'Reilly, but everyone calls me Radar 'cuz I know things. You know? But hey, I'm sorry but I need some information. I bet some people are awful worried about you. We need to contact them, you see," he finished, pen poised hopefully above his clipboard.
Harry reached up to touch the soreness at his temple. It wasn't like the pain he used to get when old Tom would send him visions. Besides, that scar was on the other side of his forehead.
Radar looked around. "Hey Hawkeye! He's awake."
Another dark haired man wearing a white coat and a cowboy hat walked between the beds opposite Radar. "So I see. I'm Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce, do you come here often?" the black haired man asked as he checked a clip board hanging on a bar just above Harry's feet. "Hmm. Any relation to our hospital's fearless leader?"
Harry blinked, not sure what to make of this man. "I'm not sure. I mean I was researching my family tree. My parents died a long time ago and I never knew if I had any more family on my dad's side. My mother's sister and her family raised me."
"I see," Dr. Pierce said, making a quick note on the clipboard.
Sitting on the chair opposite Radar, Dr. Pierce checked Harry's bandage. A light was flashed into Harry's eyes.
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed ducking from the pain.
"So you had to come all the way to Korea just to prove you have family?"
"Is that where I am? I was suppose to be on my way to Japan. A friend got me tickets for the World Cup."
"Ahh Japan. All night sake bars, his and hers geisha. Rickshaw races in the hotel lobby. . . ," Dr. Pierce said as he looked up over Harry's head, then with a smirk, "And did I mention the sake?"
"Geez Hawkeye!" Radar said, interrupting the doctor's rambling. "I still need to find his family."
Harry frowned as he realized that he was in the muggle world. The only person so far that had any type of magic was this Radar. Just where was he?
"Hey Capt'n Pierce?"
Another man walked over. Or was it a man? The person was dressed, well, in a dress, a blue dress to be exact. He had black hair and the biggest nose, except for Professor Snape's, Harry had ever seen. The guy carried a matching clutch purse and was wearing high heels and stockings! On his head he wore a black wide brimmed hat with a bit of lace veiling his face.
"Yes Klinger?" Dr. Pierce asked, looking at the strange man.
"Colonel Potter's looking for you. He wants to know if Harry Potter's awake yet."
"Well speak of the devil, Klinger. I would say he is," Dr. Pierce said, standing. "Tell our illustrious Colonel that his wayward family member is awake and asking questions."
Harry watched the strange man turn to leave, when Dr. Pierce stopped him. "Oh and Klinger?"
"Thanks. I made it myself," he said with a curtsy.
What happened next was a lesson in embarrassment, first the would not let him use the loo but brought him a bedpan to do his business and no screen to hide behind. Then he had a sponge bath given by a very pretty young nurse. When he was finally allowed a meal, all Harry could hear was the nurse and someone called an orderly grousing about the food, but to Harry, it was alright. He'd had worse growing up with the Dursley.
"Well, son. Ready for our little chat?" the white-haired Col. Potter asked. Harry smiled and waved for the man to sit.
"Yes sir," Harry said, pulling himself up in bed. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his head. "You are Colonel Potter?"
"Do you remember me stopping by last night?" Col. Potter asked, sitting in the folding chair.
"Vaguely," Harry said with a slight frown. "I think I mentioned we might be related. I remember thinking about it when I was getting ready to leave for the World Cup in Japan." And he had.
A week before he had been scheduled to leave for Japan, he had come across the Potter family tapestry. One of the names had been Sherman T. Potter. He had been wishing that he could meet this unknown Potter when he had discovered the man on a cadet branch on the family tapestry. Maybe that's how he got here? He was touching his port-key while he was still thinking about him.
"So how are we related? I thought I knew everyone in the family," Col. Potter asked, with a frown.
Harry wasn't too sure how much he could, or should, tell. According to the tapestry, the colonel before him was a squib from a long line of squibs. "Well, sir. As far as I could tell. You see, you are from a cadet branch, so it makes you my many times removed cousin. A James Tobias Potter who was a brother to my grandfather several generations back was a sergeant major in the British Army during that little dust up with the colonies in the 1700's. He never returned home after the war. He was written off as a black sheep and forgotten. I only found about it when I was going through papers I inherited last year."
"I see. And your parents? Any family at all?" Col. Potter asked, checking Harry's bandage.
Harry winced slightly as he shook his head. "No. My parents were killed when I was a baby. I was sent to my mother's sister to live. They didn't much care for me. Never knew if I had any more relatives or not until last year."
"That's too bad son. How did you end up here in Korea? Last I knew, Japan and Korea had an ocean between 'em."
Harry shrugged, rubbing his bandage. "That I'm not sure." The man maybe be a squib but he had been raised as a muggle. The Secrecy Law was still in effect.
"Well, son. If and when you do, I'd like to hear it. Meantime, get some rest. We don't need your bed just yet. The causalities have been pretty light lately," Col. Potter gave a slight smile. "And if 'n we do, there's always the VIP tent. I'm sure that you and I will be havin' many a family discussion before we turn you loose."
"Thank your sir. I would like that," Harry said, shyly. "I never knew my father's side of the family."
"Well then, son, why don't you call me Uncle Sherman? If I may call you Harry? Two Potters around here would be mighty confusin'."
"I would like that," Harry said with a shy smile.
Harry was moved to the VIP tent two days later. Radar returned all of Harry's personal items that same day. The company clerk looked a tad confused when Harry made sure a long narrow stick was undamaged. He was even more confused that Harry had no more than a match box and a single old shoe.
"By the way," Radar said, as he was leaving. "You've been invited to the Swamp. The colonel doesn't mind as long as you're careful about the hooch."
The Swamp was exactly what Radar had described. It was a large Army tent and inside, it was a pig sty of clutter. Three army cots shared the space. In between two of the cots was the strangest contraption Harry had ever seen.
A brown haired man with a very cheesy mustache waved Harry in. "Come in and sit a spell! We don't bite. Much."
"Thanks BJ," Harry said. He had gotten to know most of the staff in the few days he had been here. BJ Hunnicut was one of the surgeons stationed at the MASH Unit.
BJ stood and went to the contraption next to his bed and picked up a half full beaker. "Have a seat. Here have a drink."
Harry sat on one of the cots careful not to knock over the chess board which was set up with the strangest pieces he had ever seen. On the board were chess pieces, shot glasses, checkers and poker chips.
Taking the offered martini glass from BJ, who was eyeing him carefully, Harry took a sip.
The raw alcohol was a bit grainy for his taste but it wasn't too bad. "It isn't bad," Harry commented, holding up his empty glass. "I've had worse."
And he was telling the truth between the potions Snape and Madam Promphrey tried to force down his throat and the fire-whiskey the twins kept sneaking into the dorms, this was nothing.
Hawkeye walked in before a stunned BJ could say anything. "Ahh mother's milk. Come to papa," Hawkeye crooned reaching for a glass.
"Isn't it a tad bit early, even for you? Corrupting the children again?" came a suave, cultured voice from behind them.
Standing in the door was a tall, heavy set man in a wrinkled Army uniform.
"Back so soon Charles?" Hawkeye asked as he plopped unto his cot with glass in hand.
"Ahh Harry Potter, meet Charles Emerson Winchester the third," BJ said, waving the beaker. "Charles care for a drink?"
"Charmed." The man dropped over stuffed traveling duffle bag by his cot and sneered. "Thank you no."
"But Charles," Hawkey quipped. "You'll like Harry here, he's from England. He speaks your language."
The next hour was interesting and gave Harry a new appreciation of mayhem. The two doctors slowly got drunker and drunker while Harry remained sober. Harry was subtly and not so subtly probed about his life, which Harry delicately sidestepped.
Charles reminded Harry of an older, less aristocratic Malfoy. He thought the major could use a few more snobbery lessons as he wasn't very impressive at it. There wasn't any love lost between the three tent mates and Harry felt like he was at a sporting match as the wit and repartee whipped back and forth passed him.
During the rest of his stay, Harry noticed many similarities between the staff of the 4077th and his friends back home. BJ and Hawkeye reminded Harry a lot of the twins in their zany attitudes and constant pranking. Margaret Houlihan reminded him of Ginny, she didn't take any flak. Klinger, for some reason, reminded him of Dobby. Maybe because of his surreal wardrobe. And Radar – it almost seemed as if Radar was Luna's lost twin
However, Uncle Sherman reminded Harry of a cross between Remus and McGonagall, very intelligent, gruff and to the point, with a heart of gold.
Harry had many talks with Uncle Sherman. The man had been in the military since he was a boy. He'd been in two major wars first in the cavalry, then becoming a doctor in the second. Finally, Harry was getting the advice and the connection to family that he'd longed for. Maybe this was the reason his magic had brought him to this time and place.
Harry had been caught in a dilemma before he came to Korea. He had just killed off old Tom and ended a very bloody war. Now he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. On one hand, there was the Auror Corp. However, Harry was done killing. He had at first wanted to be an Auror because of his father and his god father. But now, it wasn't as appealing.
Then there was professional Quidditch. He was a natural on a broom and could play on any team he wanted. That's why he was going to Japan and the Quidditch World Cup. He was going to speak to an agent about what all was involved, but really his heart wasn't in it. He just didn't want any more fame and he also wasn't a diehard quidditch fan like some of his friends.
No. He had been thinking about what he wanted out of life and had wished he could talk to someone who was family and had experienced war like he had. He was wishing hard when he had used the port-key and his magic had done the rest. He was now in the past, in Korea, speaking with someone he wished he had known growing up.
Harry was sitting in Col Potter's Office and they were discussing his options. "Well son, when you get back home," Col. Potter was saying when Radar came in with some folders that needed to be filed.
In the middle of filing, the clerk paused, looking up at the ceiling. "Uh oh. Choppers."
As Colonel Potter and Radar rushed out of the office, Harry at first couldn't hear anything, then he heard a faint thumping sound which was growing louder.
"Choppers! All personnel! In coming wounded! All shifts report to the OR! On the double!"
Harry rushed out to find himself amidst organized chaos. People were scrambling to help the incoming helicopters and ambulances arriving.
He found himself for the next twelve hours doing whatever anyone wanted him to do. He helped carry stretchers, carry towels, obeying any order given to him without question. He peeked a few times into the operating room to watch the barbaric torture that the doctors used to give back life. Madam Pomphrey would have been horrified at what they were doing to those unfortunate souls.
The most interesting of all was helping Father Malcahy., who reminded Harry of Arthur Weasley. The small priest was everywhere giving comfort to the wounded and last rites for the dying. And yet, the man went about his duties calmly and brought with him a sense of peace for those he administered to.
It was night time and for once all was quiet. The mad dash was over and everyone was sleeping. Harry was sitting on his bed in the VIP tent putting the finishing touches on a letter he was writing to Colonel Potter. It was time for Harry to return home.
Harry looked at the old shoe, his port-key home. Magic was all about intent. Hermione would argue that magic didn't work that way, it was more complicated than a simple wish, but Harry knew better. He had wanted to speak to someone like Colonel Potter and he had. Now it was time to go home, and home he would go.
Placing the letter on his cot and making sure he hadn't left anything behind, Harry said a mental good bye to everyone. It had been hard not to use magic to help out as it would have changed things but he didn't belong here, and changing this past could have drastic consequences on the future. Picking up the old shoe, Harry knew he belonged home.
Harry stood in front of a dual grave marker. It had been five years since his trip to the past. When he had returned he had done two things. First, he resigned from the Auror Academy and signed up for medical school in the muggle world. He was now in his first year residency and hoped to start soon on his medi-wizard license.
Second, he looked up Sherman Potter's family in the States.
Harry looked down at the marker. Written on the marble stone were the names of Col. Sherman T. Potter and Mildred Potter. Under their names were the dates of birth and death for both. Harry had been sorry that he didn't get a chance to talk with the man again. He would have liked to.
Off to one side were a young couple, waiting patiently for Harry to pay his last respects.
"So we are related, then?" asked the man.
Harry nodded. "Yea."
"My grandfather talked about meeting someone from England during the Korean War. Said his name was Harry, like yours."
Harry smiled. "Something like that. So tell me about your grandfather. A name on a family tree just doesn't do anyone justice."
Personally, I like trying to fit crossovers that have no business working together. It took some doing but I was able to. I did use the old stale cliché of accidental time travel to get it to work but, hey why knock it, if it works.
Frau and I had bit of a discussion on this one-shot. She says it's more of an outline and I didn't want to add to much and lose the simplicity of the show.
What do you think? Let us know, either here or on our yahoo group which can be found on my profile.
Until next time – GF and The Frau