tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)

by Polydicta


Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

tlhInganpu, is what.

Additional warnings

Some nasty curses are going to be used - moderately graphic death scenes.

Author's Forward:

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation


All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

A quick note

The avaraka hex is the root from which the killing curse was developed. It causes a momentary neural overload, experienced as a single pulse of pain more intense than the cruciatus curse, but is not as prolonged (hence, it is a hex and not a curse).

Avaraka is used by healers to restart a person's heart in the case of a heart attack (like a muggle defibrillator)


tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 6: Battles

New year's eve was a quiet, family affair with the Grangers. They saw the new year in and drank a few toasts before heading off to bed. Bill had been right, a few days without using magic was enough to let Harry get back to normal. If anything, Harry felt stronger than ever.

Hermione cast the same diagnostic as Bill had done.

"You were always powerful, Harry, but now … well, I wonder if the horcrux had been siphoning off your magical energy and giving it to him."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It just gets worse, doesn't it? Well, if that is what was happening, then he's going to be weaker when we finally meet."

Hermione's lips curled into a smile. Before she could speak, Harry had caught them in a kiss.

That night they cemented their relationship shortly after Harry asked Hermione to be his wife.


They woke sharing a bed, not for the first time, but before had always been more … innocent.


Their return to Hogwarts after the holiday was quiet, there were no disturbances on the train and they arrived in Scotland on a dark, snowy night. For the first time they all saw Hagrid's thestrals and were nuzzled by the death horses as though old friends.

That night, Voldemort attacked Azkaban, killing the aurors stationed there and releasing the prisoners. At least, those prisoners willing to become his minions.

He took with him one hundred and eighty prisoners of whom sixty were already marked. The eighty seven dementors of Azkaban went with them. Three hundred prisoners and thirty aurors were left behind, kissed or otherwise dead.


The end of January saw the first Hogsmead weekend of the new year and the five visited, keeping a watchful eye over the students.

It was almost lunch time when a series of cracks and pops announced the arrival of Voldemort's death eaters. The dim winter's day was illumined by the deadly light of lethal magics. The chill of the approaching dementors ensured that few would be able to fight.

A series of silver lights ran across the village, patroni summoned by most of the former DA members. Only students seemed to be fighting back against the fully trained wizards intent of death and destruction.

The tide of destruction was turned when five figures in green, cowled battle robes arrived three on foot while two arrived by broom. Not a word was spoken by them as they unleashed lethal spells upon the interlopers. The newcomers simply ignored the use of the cruciatus curse against them. Dark hexes were batted away or returned with negligent wand-flicks. The killing curse, which the death eaters threw with abandon, was simply side-stepped.

Draco Malfoy found himself fighting side by side with Peter Pettigrew, double teaming one of the green-robed fighters.

"Peter, Draco … nuqneH. You both owe me debts of honour. You, Peter, owe me your life thrice over. I call your life debt due this day, I call your blood debt due this day and I call your debt of betrayal due this day. Now it is time to die. pub SoH 'lw!" [boil your blood - the blood-boiling curse]

A ripple of magic hit Petigrew who started screaming. A shocked Draco Malfoy paused, seeing the rat-like man turn red, eyes bulging and writhing. The traitor's skin began to split, spilling steaming blood into the snow. He stopped writhing, he stopped screaming and with an exhalation of bloody foam, he stopped living.

"Draco, your life, too, is forfeit. Lemniscusdirumpo!" (Cutting Ribbon curse)

A whip of pink magic shot from Harry's wand; a wrist flick and Draco malfoy was dead, his head separated from his neck and his torso sliced cleanly from left shoulder to right hip.


Severus Snape wasn't having a good day. Not good at all. It had started off well enough, and then he had been sent to observe the 'revels' in Hogsmead.

"Severus, you are to observe. Under no circumstances are you to engage anyone in battle. I wish to know more of these foreign wizards."

Snape shook his head. His report was going to hurt, and he knew it. He watched as Pettigrew and Malfoy died - one screaming, the other quickly and silently. He was somewhat saddened at seeing his godson cut down, but similarly, he was unsurprised.


Ronald Weasley stood shoulder to shoulder with three other death eaters. He had enjoyed this latest Hogsmead visit, throwing cutters and blasting hexes with abandon. He had even managed to hit someone with a cruciatus curse. How he loved the screaming. Unfortunately, he never managed to hit anyone with his killing curse as the effort of casting those dark curses had left him somewhat winded.

"Ronald, brother, nuqneH. I owe you for the pain you brought me. You owe me for your betrayal. SoH 'Hegh!" [Prepare to die]

The redhead cast a cruciatus curse on the figure before him. The twisting yellow light hit the woman who he now realised was his sister. She never flinched or acknowledged the curse, she just stood.

"Ronald, this is for mum and the pain you caused her. leng QoQ. Avaraka. Naribusvespertilionemfaciem. Reducto." [farewell] (Pain hex, bat-bogey hex, blasting hex)

Ron Weasley died over about three minutes, his chest shredded and his lungs punctured. Throughout, he was assaulted by his own nasal excretions. As he died, he was still cursing, in his heart, that everyone else had everything that he had deserved. He died not understanding that he had received precisely what he had earned.


Hermione happened upon a massive brute of a man. A werewolf, actually. Fenrir Greyback (born Frank Hardbotham) was a vicious and sadistic killer, preferring to eat human flesh in order to feed his inner wolf. His outer wolf had no quarrel with his diet.

He sniffed and a grin split his face.

"Ah, a little girlie. I can smell your blood, little girl."

The werewolf's mouth was watering. He attacked physically, grabbing for Hermione.

What he got for his trouble was hit in the face with one of the points of her Bat'leth.

Greyback was confused and angry. Never a great thinker, his mind failed to grasp how he had been hurt by this slip of a child. The sudden pain in his groin brought his attention fully back to the matter in hand.

He roared in surprise and made a grab for the girl, and was hit in the teeth and nose by one end of the four-pointed blade, opening his face in a vertical slice that made him furious while simultaniously impairing his vision with blood and a spreading nose.

He spun to try to catch the girl who had danced past him, only to be driven sideways by a powerful blow to the side. His legs gave way as he felt a pain in his mid back. As he landed, his spine was snapped across the titanium weapon still embedded in his back.

Hermione stood over the fallen were, her d'k tahg in her hand. She pointed the blade toward the were's neck and whispered an unintelligible incantation. "chenmoH d'k tahg baS'chIS." [create silver (on my) knife]

He saw the bright metal become mirror bright. He felt fear as the blade bit into his flesh. He felt the burning pain of the lunar metal as it entered his blood. His blood splashed out from his severed neck and the last thing he felt was the knife entering his heart.

Fenrir Greyback, feared monster and leader of Voldemort's werewolfs, died regretting only his demise.

It took Hermione eight seconds to end his reign of fifty years.


Luna and Neville found themselves facing, at last, two unknown death eaters.

It was a one-sided dance of death. The two minions were dead as soon as they confronted the pair, even though they didn't realise it yet.

A non-stop barrage of minor hexes and jinxes prevented the death eaters from replying with their own magic. It was obvious from the first that the green-clad warriors were playing with their prey. Nothing that they were using was in the least bit harmful.

A few words were exchanged between the pair and the death eaters knew no more, one succumbing to a severing curse to the neck, the other to a blood-freezing curse to the head.

As the last two death eaters fell, there was the sound of aurors arriving, too late to achieve anything but cleaning up the mess left by five students and thirty dead death eaters.


Harry discovered, in the course of things, that a couple of his books had been left at Hermione's house, so he went to the Room of Requirement to search for temporary replacements. He entered the room of hidden things aspect when he saw that the entire contents had been destroyed by the fiendfyre that had been released inside. Suddenly harry remembered seeing Ravenclaw's diadem atop a pile of junk, now long gone.

"Accio the remains of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem …"

Harry found himself holding a series of solidified, ash-covered globules of electrum (gold/silver alloy) and a number of greyed, glassy blobs that had been precious stones.

On his return to his room, he sent Hedwig with a letter to the Grangers to send the books he had forgotten, and went to find Hermione in the library.

"The last one was already dealt with … here are the remains of Ravenclaw's Diadem."

Harry placed a folded parchment containing the remains on the desk.

"How do you know that this is …"

"I accio'd the remains of the diadem by name. This is what I got. He's almost mortal."

The two suddenly started grinning like idiots.

"We need to tell professor McGonagall."

They went to find the Headmistress.


"You're sure?"

"Yes, as sure as we can be. Professor Dumbledore was right on the mark with the others, so we have no reason to suspect him of being incorrect about the diadem."

"How do you know that the diadem was destroyed?"

"Professor, try accioing the remains of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. They're right here, after all."

She did and was rewarded by receiving the packet of melted bits.

"There is just one other possibility, and that's Tom Riddle's special award. If we could check it, please?"


They trooped down to the trophy room. With the case open, Hermione cast the diagnostics that Bill had taught them.

"Ugh! There's some nasty stuff on it alright. We should defuse it, but it doesn't show up as a horcrux."


Thirty minutes and one impressed headmistress later, they had cleaned the curses from the small shield. They also cast diagnostics on the other items in the cabinet. The Weatherburn Trophy for the Dark Arts, however, proved to be a very different piece of work.

"Professor Weatherburn was the teacher of Occultism, back in the sixteen hundreds. Dark arts haven't been taught at Hogwarts since 1752, and so the trophy hasn't been awarded since then. It would be a shame to lose it, but …"

"… like Hufflepuff's cup, it is a horcrux," Hermione concluded.

"Speaking of which … I'd like to present this to the school. It has no residual enchantments because it was sliced in half, but you can barely see the join …"

Harry fished out the re-joined halves of the Hufflepuff cup.

"I joined it using a muggle glue, rather than a sticking charm that may be accidentally disrupted. The axe is so sharp and thin that it barely dented the soft metal. A few minutes with a metalworking charm removed the dents on the rim."

"Are … that's incredible … are you sure?"

"Yes, otherwise it would just sit in our vault gathering dust and spiders."

They took the Weatherburn Trophy out to the quiddich pitch and placed it on a rock that Hermione transfigured.

The various layers of protection were peeled back and neutralised. Finally, Harry used the axe to destroy the horcrux. A greyish green vapour rose and coalesced into a form that neither teen recognised.

Two wands flared and the spectre was banished forever.

"Grindelwald … Grindelwald had a horcrux."


"Gellert Grindelwald had a horcrux, and it was in our trophy room! I'll hex him to …"

"He'll probably die soon, Professor. He is older than Professor Dumbledore was. Let's repair the trophy and return it to the trophy room, shall we?"

Other than anti-theft hexes and prank charms, nothing else in the trophy room proved to be anything other than it outwardly seemed.


The daily prophet next day bore the banner headline – 'Grindelwald Dead!'

"That should give Tom pause for thought, no?"