Harry Son of James, of the House of Potter


Vernon Dursley and Petunia Evans met at a Star Trek convention. He had been wearing a perfect Mudd outfit and she had been wearing a nurse's outfit with gogo boots. To them it was a match made in heaven, though not many, even of their families, would agree.

Both of them invited their sisters to the wedding. The Dursely family and friends wore the gold of the Command line (preferring that to the green dress uniforms), and the Evans family and friends wore the blue of the Science officers and the priest wore traditional Vulcan robes and ear prostheses. Neither sister were impressed by the display, but went along with it for their sibling's sake.

Lily's date, however, couldn't leave well enough alone. James Potter taunted them and eventually got into a brawl with one of Vernon's friends, a burly young redshirted engineer, and spilling the punch at the reception. Vernon and Petunia looked down on the odd man.

"He's nothing more than a Klingon," Vernon said. "You can't trust those folks."


A handful of years passed and eventually the Dursleys, having just increased their ship's contingent by one, found an unwanted young officer abandoned on their doorstep.

"He'll be no different than his father, mark my words," Vernon said.


Dudley was raised the same way as his parents lived. He loved the Federation and wanted to be Kirk when he grew up. But every Kirk needs his opponent and one was ready made in Harry Potter. He always had to play the Klingon.

More time passed and the Next Generation came out. Klingons were vastly different from their TOS counterparts. There was honor in their existence. It meant more to them than their life and dishonor was reflected on ancestors. Harry embraced this lifestyle. It called to him.

And so Harry Potter became Harry Son of James of the House of Potter.


Malfoy challenged the Son of James to a duel. Honor required that Harry Son of James accept. It was to be at midnight. Harry and his two friends went to the intended place, but heard the sounds of Filch seeking them out.

"We've got to go!" hissed Hermione. Ron nodded just along with her.

"Go," Harry said. "Your honor is not affected by this Duel. Go and I will take the blame."

A bit hesitant, his friends ran back to their tower.

"You! A little Firsty out of bed!" Filch snarled.

"Indeed," Harry replied.


The next morning, everyone had heard of Harry's detention and subsequent loss of points. The Gryffindors were not pleased with him, but Harry, Son of James, was not about to be deterred. When the Slytherins looked at him and laughed, Harry decided he'd had enough. At dinner, he stood up and walked before the head table, facing the students. This was a bit out of character, so people watched.

"Headmaster, may I address the student body?" he asked politely.

The headmaster, amused by how formal the boy was all the time, nodded in agreement and cast a spell so that all could hear him.

"I am Harry Son of James of the House of Potter," Harry bellowed so that all could hear him. All chatter ceased. "I come here to claim my honor as it is right! Yesterday, Draco, of the House of Malfoy, challenged me to a duel, to be at midnight. I arrived at the appointed place and time, there was Filch who had been warned I would be out after curfew. I did note that the Son of Lucius was not there." He turned to glare at Draco. "I wear my detention and loss of points as a badge of honor, Malfoy! They show that I did as I said I would! They tell all that I can be trusted and that I am honorable, that my word is my bond!" He sneered at the blond boy who was shocked at the words. "Your house is well named, Bad Faith, you worthless P'tahk!" he spat before turning to the rest of the Hogwarts student body. "Know this! His actions, his failure to complete his duel and subsequent treachery, show that Draco, Son of Lucius, of the Dishonorable House of Malfoy, is a worthless creature. The House of Malfoy has no honor and cannot be trusted! Any who walk with such a dishonorable House paint themselves with the same brush!"

And with that, he turned, gave the headmaster a Romanesque salute and returned to his seat at the Gryffindor table. He did not even glance in Draco's direction, so he did not see the odd color of puce the boy turned. He did not see how amused many of the Slytherins were, nor how intrigued the Ravenclaws were, nor how impressed the Hufflepuffs were. The Gryffindors, who had been so cold for his loss of points, had turned completely around.

Draco would never forget this public embarrassment. It should have been Potter who was punished, but somehow, even with the points and the detention, he still came out on top! Draco decided his father needed to hear about this.

That night:

"Potter, use this rag and clean all those awards!" Filch said, tossing an enchanted cleaning rag at the boy. Harry Son of James, caught it and saluted.

"Qa'plah!" he replied before dutifully cleaning every single one of those awards until they sparkled.


Draco twisted his wand and snapped out an incantation. "Serpentsortia!"

The spell summoned forth a snake that looked at Harry for a moment but started going for the crowd. Its jaws opened up as it prepared to lunge at Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry, his hands striking as quickly as a snake's, flicked a dagger at the snake, impaling it on the floor in front of the Hufflepuff.

"Once again you prove that the House of Malfoy lives up to its name!" Harry declared as he glared at the blond boy who was still staring at the impaled snake in shock.


He reached into the hat and pulled out a gigantic silver sword. After a moment it seemed to shimmer and turned into a Bat'leth perfect for his size. Harry Son of James stared at the giant snake bearing down on him as he gripped the blade in both hands.

"Perhaps today is a good day to die!" he swore as he charged the snake.


"Lucius Son of Abraxus, of the Dishonorable House of Malfoy," Harry Son of James growled out. The blond man sneered down at him. Harry glared back before charging forward. He had learned how important speed could be. The elder Malfoy had not expected that, having been used to combat at a good distance and accidentally let the boy get in under his guard. A hooked leg, and the two of them tumbled to the floor. Harry reached behind him and hauled the Bat'leth of Gryffindor from its hiding place. The tines of the Klingon sword stabbed into the wooden floor on either side of Malfoy's neck.

"You have a house elf to free," Harry informed him.


"Kill the spare," Harry heard. Quickly, he grabbed Cedric and hauled him out of the way, tossing him onto the portkey. The older boy vanished and Harry went unconscious from a stunner only a moment later.

The graveyard was filled with Death Eaters. Voldemort was giving a little speech about how great he was, but Harry didn't care. He instead decided to do as much as he could to escape his predicament.

"I understand you cannot refuse a duel, Potter," the snake man taunted. "Your honor," he said it like it was a joke, "prevents you."

"Give me my wand and I'll fight you," Harry Son of James replied honestly. Voldemort and the others cackled at this, but the snake man sent the boy's wand flying towards him.

"First we bow," Voldemort said and was surprised when the boy did so without prompting. What surprised him more was that the boy threw something over himself and disappeared. "Running Potter? I thought your vaunted honor prevented you?"

Harry cast a simple prank ventriloquism charm and his voice seemed to come from all directions at once.

"There is no honor in an easy death, Tom Riddle," Harry Son of James said.

"I am Lord Voldemort!" the snake man bellowed in rage. "Show yourself!"

"Now, now," Harry taunted, his voice sill echoing from all directions. "Facing you directly would give me no honor in death. I am but 14, and you have decades more experience than me. That is ignoring the fact that you and your followers outnumber me greatly. There is no honor in suicide."

"A smart boy would run from my power," Voldemort taunted.

"A smart boy uses anything to even the odds so long as there is honor in battle," Harry Son of James replied. "When they speak of this day, they shall say: The House of Potter died well that day. He took the lives of his enemies and succumbed only once they all fell. Diffindo!"

Avery gurgled as he looked down at the slice through his chest.

"The game's afoot," Harry taunted. Voldemort turned in the dark fog at the scream of Lucius Malfoy. The man's wand arm was cut off, a bleeding stump. The severed limb flew as if thrown into the still burning pyre of Voldemort's resurrection.

"I can see you, Riddle," The Boy's tone changed and Voldemort could almost see the dark predatory grin on the Son of James' face. "Can you see me?"

"I will make you beg for mercy!" Voldemort cried out even as Crabbe Sr. lost a leg. Harry laughed as Voldemort threw a curse at where he thought the boy was.

"Riddle, Riddle, Riddle. Did you think I'd strike and be stupid enough to stand still?" Harry Son of James let his voice fill the graveyard. "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!"

"Accio invisibility cloak!" one of the Death Eaters cried out, only gape as the spell failed.

"You'll have to do better than that, Macnair," Harry taunted as the offending Death Eater lost an arm and part of the shoulder. The other death eaters hit their fellow with a charm to cease bleeding. The screams of the wounded as they begged for their mothers covered up any sound of a boy in an invisibility cloak.

"You have no escape, Potter! Your little friend may have escaped, but you do little but delay the inevitable!" the dark wizard called out, turning around as he tried to find where the boy was hiding.

"To be, or not to be, Riddle," Harry whispered, his ventriloquism spell letting his words fly swiftly to the ears of those in the graveyard. "That is the question."

Voldemort seemed to feel something close by and spun, only to have a hand reach out from nowhere and snap his wand.

"It seems you have chosen the latter," Harry said as he threw off the invisibility cloak and hauled out the Bat'leth of Gryffindor. Harry spun and Voldemort's severed head went bouncing across the field. Harry grinned at the shocked Death Eaters, using their momentary pause to pull his cloak back over himself. Voldemort's body turned to dust once more and his shade bellowed at his followers.

"Kill him you fools!"

"Qa'plah! Today is a good day for you to die!" the head of the Honorable House of Potter called out as he went once more on the offensive. The followers of Tom Riddle were stuck between a rock and a hard place. A stunner hit Wormtail, but that was the only nonlethal curse sent the Death Eaters way. Every so often that dreaded silver blade would shine with reflected fire before striking someone down, but most often it was beams from the darkness. The crackle of the fire, the screams of the wounded, the shuffling of feet, all of this covered the sounds of careful footsteps in the fog. Like a Bird of Prey, Harry Son of James struck from the darkness and cut down his foes.


By the time the Aurors and Dumbledore arrived, having tracked down the fake Moody and decoded the destination of the chalice portkey, only the young Lord of the House of Potter remained standing. Lucius Malfoy was alive if unconscious, as was Peter Pettigrew. Harry put his cloak and the Bat'leth of Gryffindor back in his magical pouch and held his two prisoners up for the newcomers to see.

"Oh sweet Merlin," one of the younger Aurors swore as he saw the raw carnage before him.

"They died with some honor," the Son of James said honestly. "But their master exists still."

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said a bit sad. "Was this really necessary?"

"To be, or not to be, Headmaster," Harry Son of James replied. "I chose to be, as this was not my day to die. I would dishonor myself and my fathers and my mothers going back many generations if I were to allow myself to do so today."


"So, you would take the word of a worthless P'tahk like Malfoy? A man who's House speaks of his honor? His name is Bad Faith, and he proves it every day, just like his son," Harry said before the judiciary, his hand were bound before him, his wand and bat'leth confiscated. He glanced briefly at Malfoy who positively shivered with rage. Harry knew the man expected the Son of James to be cowed, and felt pride swell up at the reaction. He turned back to Fudge and the collected Wizengamot members. "You take his word without evidence then? You spit upon the testimony of the Honorable House of Diggory in addition to the House of Potter? I, Harry Son of James of the Honorable House of Potter, swear that my testimony is true and will insist on a full accounting of such. It does not hurt my honor to take the Veritaserum potion. Bring it hence and you shall see my words for truth."

"There's no need to waste the money on such an expensive potion for something like this," Fudge said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Ah, so you are not only a vassal of the Dishonorable House of Malfoy, but you covet possessions and wealth like a spineless Ferengi?" Harry commented dryly. "This was supposed to be a panel of my peers to determine the worth of my honor and of my words. But it is clear you are not my peer."

"Silence from the prisoner!" a toad-like woman hissed. Harry looked down his nose at her like a Klingon who had just been served a plate of cold, lifeless Racht. She shivered despite herself.

"I have no doubt your opinion is influenced by the bribes and gifts bought with dirty money," Harry continued, turning his attention back to Fudge. "How much has that P'tahk Malfoy paid you? Or have you lost count?"

Harry grinned like a warg that just spotted wounded prey as the minister paled a little.

"I am willing to stake my life on my honor and the truth of my words, Fudge," Harry grinned. "Can you say the same?"


AN: I don't own HP and I don't own Star Trek, but it's fun to bring them together. Some of my Klingon might be a little off. Sorry, I'm not fluent.

I originally intended to expand this and make it something more, but it languished and sat around on the hard drive long enough that I felt it was a false start. I might come back to it and flesh out a few years here and there.