AN: I do not in any way own Harry Potter or Firefly, or anything associated with them, so consider this - and any following chapters - disclaimed.

Black In Black

Chapter the First

Time seemed to slow down as Harry Potter watched his godfather fall backwards towards the mysterious veil in the department of mysteries. The haggard features of the man he was just starting to accept as family frozen in an expression of shock as he was pulled into the oblivion that the veil offered. In that single moment, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, seemed to lose his mind.

Well, that's what every other person that was present in the death chamber would attest to when later questioned, as there was no other explanation for what followed. The young wizard let loose a burst of wild magic sending those closest to him to the ground, and charged after his godfather, straight into the death veil.

The members of the Order of the Phoenix could not believe what he had done, and stood staring agape, leaving the Death Eaters with the perfect opportunity to escape, and escape they did. Back to their master they went to report the failure of the mission, but also the great success in their war.

By the time the great Albus Dumbledore arrived on the scene, there were no enemies in the building, only five distraught teenagers being comforted by the inner circle of his order. He managed to get the story of what happened from a grieving Remus, and struggled to keep his composure, while on the inside he was fuming. He couldn't believe how stupid the boy had been to run to his death, like a giant wrecking ball smashing through all of his carefully laid plans.

If Harry Potter was no more, then what would become of their world, how would they face off against Voldemort and his army without a saviour? The old wizard studied those around him, stopping as his gaze fell upon Neville Longbottom, the second child of the prophecy. He had not yet been marked as Voldemort's equal, but perhaps he could orchestrate a situation where that would come about.

Prophecy works in mysterious ways, maybe Neville was the chosen one from the beginning, simply waiting his turn to be marked. It would take a lot of planning, but not all hope was lost. In fact, this could be a blessing in disguise, for Neville Longbottom is a lot more malleable than Harry Potter ever was.

HPF

If Harry were asked what he thought it would be like to fall into the death veil, he would have probably mentioned falling through a long winding tunnel at a high speed, as he had seen on a TV about travelling to other planets. Because of this belief, he was sorely disappointed and a little relieved when the only thing he felt was an anticlimactic jarring in his stomach. Almost as if he had miss-judged the height of a curb before stepping off it.

Of course, there had to be a downside to the trip, and that seemed to be the very end of it, where he slammed rather painfully into the hard ground. When he regained his bearings, he lifted his head with a groan, and spotted Sirius lying a few feet away from him.

"Sirius, you awake?" Harry asked, garnering no response. He grumbled to himself as he crawled over to his Godfather and shook his shoulder. When he still didn't get a response, he grew a little worried. Groping his neck, Harry sighed in relief when he felt the steady beat beneath his fingers.

Harry pushed himself up onto his knees and sat on his heels before searching around himself, he worryingly couldn't see his wand, and checking his pockets, he found both the marauder's map and his enchanted knife missing. He put that out of his mind for the moment and looked at his surroundings. He was knelt in the mouth of an alley, next to a busy main street, containing all the hubbub you might expect.

The street itself however, was like nothing Harry had ever seen before. Lights shined from every surface, and the air was filled with holograms and spinning notice boards proclaiming advertisement after advertisement. The futuristic technology clashed with the dirt roads and the old architecture in a strange combination of past and future.

Harry's wide, disbelieving eyes took in everything around him, "Where the hell are we?"

HPF

The remaining crew of the Firefly class transport ship Serenity were gathered in the dining area of the ship, waiting for the captain, Malcolm Reynolds, to tell them why they were there. The crew had had a rough year since the events on Miranda, with the Reavers and the Alliance killing Wash and Sheppard Book respectively, being hard on all of them.

Mal looked at his gathered crew and decided it would be easier to get this over with, "I think it's time we got ourselves a new pilot." The reaction he received was somewhat expected, mutterings and uncertain glances from the majority, wondering why he had decided this now. The only one not to react was Zoë, whose face remained stoic and expressionless, which wasn't surprising; Wash, the previous pilot, was her husband.

"I'm not saying we can replace Wash, doubtful there's anyone quite like him in the 'verse, but we're needin' someone with a touch more skill in the cockpit than any of us."

Mal sighed, when he still didn't receive any definitive response, "Alright then, I'll send out a few waves to folks who might know of someone, I'm sure you all have things you need to be gettin' on with."

He watched as they left one by one; Kaylee to the engine room with River, Inara to her shuttle, Jayne to the cargo hold and Zoë to the bridge. The only one that remained was Simon, who looked like he had something on his mind.

"Say what you need to say, Doc."

"I was wondering about River, I thought she was doing well as the pilot?"

"She's been fine, but she can be a might more useful in other places, such as on the ground, probably enjoy it more too," he replied as he started to make his way towards his bunk with Simon following.

Simon's face pinched in an angry expression, "No, the last time you took her on a job you were attacked by Reavers, it's too dangerous."

"That was over a year ago now, and I'm sure you can recall how she's not exactly defenceless, or have you forgotten what she did to all them Reavers with a gorram sword? Besides, a pilot's gotta be attentive all the time, can't have her goin' off on a psychotic break while we're needin' rescuing can we?"

"She's getting better; she hasn't had an episode in months now."

"I'm not disputin' that fact, but I'd feel a bit comfier with a pilot who didn't have a history of turnin' into a killer lady at the slightest provocation."

"That's not fair."

"Didn't say it was, but you seem to forget that I'm the captain of this boat, and I decide who gets to be crew."

"What, so River isn't crew anymore, since when?" Simon asked indignantly.

"That's not what I'm sayin', she's crew just the same as any of us, but pilotin' ain't the best thing for her. She's a reader, see's into the truth of things; which can be mighty useful in certain situations, and it'll be good to beef out the ground crew a bit, get more hands on deck as it were."

Mal ignored the entrance to his bunk and carried on to the bridge, glad that Simon had finally left him alone, "Zoë, we in range of anyone?"

"Five days out from Beaumonde, so we could get a hold of Morgan. He's probably our best bet if we're looking for personnel."

"Yeah, dial him up then."

It was a few minutes before they connected, and when they did the screen lit up with the picture of a sleazy looking man in an outdated suit with stringy hair, "Ah, Malcolm Reynolds, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mal inwardly cringed at his superficial voice before answering, "I'm in the need of a good pilot, was wonderin' if you had any recommendations, or if you could put out some feelers?"

"Ha, you think someone'll be crazy enough to join up with your bunch of misfits?"

"Well I was hopin' you knew of someone with the right amount of crazy?"

Morgan looked thoughtful for a moment before huffing, "Can't think of any one man," Mal was about to say something when he continued, "I can however, think of two fella's who might just be what you're looking for."

"I'm only in the need of one pilot, Morgan."

"Only one of them is a pilot, best damn one I ever saw too. Give him five minutes in any ship and he'll have her at the mercy of his fingertips. Problem is, he comes in a package deal; long as I've known 'em, I ain't ever saw one without the other. Best I can tell is one's the others son. They both go by the same name anyhow."

"Yeah, what name is that?"

"Black, the guys you want are the Blacks."

HPF

Five men stared into each other's eyes, all of them feeling the tense atmosphere they had created. The very air they were breathing seemed charged with electricity, causing their hands to twitch, and their eyes to flick back and forth. All five of them were hoping the others were not quite as quick on the draw as they were, so that they could prevail.

"So are we gonna do this?" one of the men asked. At his words, it seemed that the remaining four tensed even further.

"I don't know," another said in reply, "You have quite the reputation for jumping the gun, makes a guy like me wary."

"Are you questioning my honour, boy?"

Before any more words could be said, one of the remaining three raised his hands, "Stop, no need for slandering. We'll settle this like men." The others nodded in agreement; it was the sensible thing to do.

While this was happening, another man stood to the side of them, eyebrow raised at the ridiculousness of what he was witnessing. He raised a glass tumbler to his lips and sipped at the burning liquid it held before clearing his throat. "Sirius, I had no idea you could take a card game so seriously."

The five men acted as one as they sucked in a harsh breath at his words, four of them looking towards the afore-mentioned Sirius in accusation.

"Forgive my godson; he is still young and ignorant of the glory found in a game of snap." This worked wonders at placating them; after all, not everyone could be as enlightened as they were.

Harry merely sighed and walked away from the table, knowing it would be impossible to talk sense into his godfather. It had been five years since he had followed Sirius through the death veil in the Department of Mysteries, and while he does still occasionally miss his friends, he can't find it in him to regret his rash decision.

In the first few months of being in this strange new world, or worlds as the case may be, he had wanted to try to find a way home. It took Sirius almost half a year to convince him to let go and enjoy the new life they had found together, that there were other —more capable— people who could take care of Voldemort. He had only received five years of magical education after all, and just because Voldemort was obsessed with him, that didn't make him Harry's responsibility.

Harry walked into the main room of the bar they were in, and headed to the jukebox while finishing his drink, thinking over his new life with Sirius. One of the things he enjoyed the most about it; was the spaceships. While it's true that you can't feel the wind blowing past you as you do on a broom, there was something liberating about flying a massive spaceship, and he was a natural.

When they first arrived, they had determined that they would need money, and while Sirius decided to put his magical skills to dubious use—mainly cheating in various card games—Harry joined an underground flying circuit. Any non-space worthy vehicle with hover technology was allowed, from mules to land speeders, and with some magical expertise from Sirius, his MF-950 flying mule won him a lot of cash.

It also had the side effect of him gaining the attention of various ship captains who wanted to know if he could pilot a ship. Suffice it to say, he definitely could, and he piloted them well. He and Sirius started working for a smuggler for around a year and a half, before striking out on their own; working various illegal jobs under the Alliance noses.

It only took one argument for Sirius to convince Harry to ignore the Alliance's laws – Listen Harry, anyone who slaughters thousands, maybe even millions of people, just because they want to govern themselves, aren't exactly the good guys. – Needless to say, Harry's conscience didn't act up in regards to the Alliance again.

As Harry neared the bar for a refill, he heard something that made his inherent paranoia from dealing with the Dursley's and Voldemort for so long surface for the first time in five years. Two people, a man and a woman were asking after him and Sirius. He couldn't see much of them from behind, only their general physique and the fact that they both had brown hair, the woman's being darker than the mans.

He caught the bartender; Bryn's, eyes and slashed his hand across his neck in the universally accepted gesture for 'Stop! Don't do it! You're still young!' that kind of thing, well, Bryn seemed to understand in any case.

"Blacks are regulars here, but not seen them in a while. Might be something shiny'll jog the memory."

Or maybe he didn't quite get where Harry was coming from, no matter.

The man didn't even pause before replying, "Well, I've not polished my gun in a while, but I'm sure it's just about shiny enough."

Ah hell, Harry thought, wait; he doesn't even have a gun on him! Time to intervene me thinks. "Couldn't help but over hear you're looking for the misters Black?" He said as he placed his glass on the bar and gestured for a refill with a glare. Bryn scowled at his lost opportunity before filling the glass and walking off.

"You heard right, you know where we can find them?"

Harry paused to take a drink, before looking at the man to his left, "I know where they are, but no money or threats will make me tell you that. Not until you tell me what you want with them first. They don't owe you money do they?" he asked, sounding slightly worried, thinking about Sirius' schemes.

"No, actually, we're looking to hire–"

"Blacks don't do merc work," he interrupted.

"Good job we ain't mercs then, heard one is quite the pilot, looking to hire him." the man replied.

"Well that's interesting."

The woman standing next to him spoke up for the first time, "Interesting enough for you to want the job?"

Harry sighed as he took in her expectant expression, "How'd you know?"

"Had you pegged when we walked in, we got a vague description of you. You confirmed it for us with the questioning," she responded.

Harry frowned at how counterproductive he was, usually that's Sirius' thing. "Well, that's somewhat disheartening."

The man grinned and offered his hand, "Captain Malcolm Reynolds. This is Zoë Washburne, my first mate."

Harry shook his hand and received a nod from Zoë, before he gestured for them to follow him to an empty table. "I'm Harry Black, pilot extraordinaire, but not many know that?" he posed the last part as a question.

"A fella called Morgan recommended you; said you were the best around these days. I assume you know him?" Mal asked as he sat down opposite Harry.

Harry was shocked at that; surely, they couldn't be thinking about the same Morgan that he was, "Morgan LeChance, the smuggler?"

"Yeah, why so shocked?"

"He actually recommended me, as a good pilot?"

"Said you were the best he knew, is he wrong?" Mal asked.

"NO! I mean, no, he is right. It's just surprising he admitted it is all."

Zoë raised her eyebrow and exchanged a look with Mal, "And why is that?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and thought over his options; he could tell the truth, or make something up. Surely if they knew Morgan then they weren't exactly law-abiding citizens though, so it should be safe to tell them. "Well, me and Sirius used to work for him, but he wanted to start smuggling little girls, so we kind of robbed him for everything he had a few years back."

Mal looked shocked while Zoë seemed indifferent; Harry supposed it was her default expression. "Yeah, I mean, it must not have been everything, because within a couple of months he was back up and running. He definitely knew it was us though, clocked Sirius on his cameras on the way out the front door. Pretty sure he tagged the Marauder as well, so we scrapped it when we hit Beylix, which Sirius was not happy about, let me tell you."

"The Marauder, your ship I take it?"

Harry smiled, "Wren-class light transport ship. The first one we bought for ourselves, Sirius fixed it from the ground up. When we landed on Beylix, we dropped the cargo container and traded it in for another Wren, swung round to pick up the container and were on our way. We've been picking up the odd job here and there ever since."

Mal frowned at that, "So you've got your own crew then? I don't suppose your one to jump ship?"

Harry laughed and shook his head, "Just me and Sirius, the good thing about Wrens is they only take one person to crew them; Sirius keeps it flying, and I keep flying it. We'll join up with a crew for a job here and there; Sirius goes through withdrawal symptoms if he doesn't get the chance to flirt with someone to his heart's content every now and then."

"We're actually looking for something more permanent than that," Mal cautioned.

Harry looked between the two of them before making a decision, "Well I'm interested, definitely interested, travelling through the black with one person can get tiresome. There's only so many times we can sit and tell jokes before we've heard them all. But, I hope you know where one Black goes, the other is sure to follow?"

Mal nodded, "We heard something to that effect. Unfortunately, we already have a mechanic, and a damn good one at that. I ain't gonna let someone on my ship who's not gonna be doing anything to earn his way."

"That's not a problem in regards to Sirius; he's something of a jack of all trades. And if there really isn't anything for him to do, then we can pay his way, if you're agreeable to it?"

"We have had a few long term passengers before, those who just want to see the verse and the like," Mal said.

"Is that what you do, passenger transport?" Harry asked.

"Among other things, we're pretty flexible on cargo, and who supplies that cargo. I assume that want be a problem?"

"No that's fine, us Blacks like to bend the rules here and there."

"Well, ever flown anything bigger than a Wren?"

"Sure, I've piloted Warhammers to Vanderdeckens, and near everything in between. Anything that can get off the ground I can fly, that's the theory anyway."

Zoë raised an eyebrow, while Mal grinned, "What about a Firefly?"

"A Kestral?" Harry asked. "Sure,"

Mal shook his head, "Aught three."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, "Not as fast as a Kestral, smaller too, less range and payload, sturdy though I've heard," he added when he saw Mal's annoyed look. "And at least they scrapped the Capissen; those things were temperamental at best. Trace compression block right?" he asked referring to the engine, receiving a nod he continued. "Probably have some trouble with the compression coil occasionally; you say you have a good mechanic?"

"Kaylee's a natural with machines, keeps her in the sky in any case."

"Well, I've never flown one before; most Firefly's about are Kestrals these days, which I have flown. Well, that's only true for the Core and border planets I suppose, not out here in the rim. A series 3 shouldn't be too different control wise. Give me half an hour to get use to the systems and you'll think I've been flying one since the womb."

"Is that a guarantee?" Zoë asked.

"It's about as close to one as you'll get this far out from the core, not that I attended flight school."

"You mind if I ask why?" Mal asked.

Harry shrugged in response, "No need for it; I started flying ships when I was seventeen and haven't looked back. I've barely had two feet on the ground since then."

"What about before then?" Zoë asked.

"Perceptive huh?" Harry grinned, "I raced the underground circuits here on Beaumonde, hover mules and land speeders mainly."

Mal frowned, "And the other Mr Black was fine with that? Isn't he your father?"

Harry chuckled, "Sirius is too much a kid to be a father. No, I'm not biologically a Black. Sirius was my father's best friend, he's my godfather. Came to Beaumonde to be with him when I was fifteen, and as long as I was relatively safe, he was fine with me doing what I wanted," he supplied, working around the truth so he wasn't lying.

"So would he be fine with you making the decision to join my crew without him here?"

"Sure, he'd want a couple of days to sort something out for 'Prongs', that's our Wren, maybe long term storage or something, but he's been bugging me for a while for something less solitary."

"Reasonable, would you be able to go over his 'trades' in more detail, or would it be better to talk to him?"

Harry snorted a little, "Well that depends, do you want the truth? Or would you rather hear a fully grown man boast about how amazing he is for half an hour?"

"I assume it'll be easier if you give us a rundown."

"Sure, the first thing you need to know about Sirius, is that he doesn't act his age. He isn't immature, but he's a joker, likes pranks, that kind of thing. Now don't get me wrong, he can be deadly serious when the situation requires it, and he doesn't mess around on jobs. But when not working, he can get annoying, what you need to remember is to never ignore him, never! You can tell him to get lost, but if you ignore him, he takes it as a challenge."

Mal frowned, "That don't tell me about how useful he can be."

"No, that was just the warning label," Harry replied with a grin. "Now, I mentioned he fixed up our first Wren, he's a decent mechanic, not great, but decent. What he is great at, is fiddling. He likes to play around with scrap and make new things. Sometimes he comes up with something junk, an ugly table ornament at best. But occasionally he creates something amazing, almost magical you could say," Harry said with a smile.

"Like What?" Zoë put in.

"Something he uses the most is what he calls his lock breaker, which is pretty self-explanatory. In reality, it can melt most metals found planet-side, nothing like a ship's hull though, and can set fire to wood. Pretty sure it works by giving off concentrated heat, a bit like a laser beam, only in a cutting torch kind of form, but small and pocket sized. I don't understand how it works, I'm not even sure he does to tell the truth. Beyond his inventions, he adapts to pretty much anything, and is a great actor. It's why we can pull of jobs with just the two of us; he's pretty resourceful on the ground so we've never needed a hired hand. And he's a good shot with a pistol, better than me anyway."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, the thing with Sirius is he would probably work for nothing, he doesn't have any expensive vices or hobbies, just as long you feed him and he can get planet side every now and then."

"What's so important planet side?" Mal asked suspiciously.

Harry shrugged, "He's a hustler, likes to scam people at cards, or dice, or anything really. And charm a gal or two into a bed of course.

"Those sound like potentially expensive things."

He doesn't buy whores, just talks to regular girls, and he never loses at cards. The man's got the luck of the devil on his side."

"We could use a bit of luck, Sir."

Mal didn't look convinced at that, "The thing about luck is it can change awful quick."

Harry shook his head, "Don't need to worry about that, luck like his don't change more than once. I'm not meaning a good run in the casinos, life is okay, good even, but before it was good, it was real bad for both him and me. The fates owe him."

Mal glanced at his second in command, "That wasn't ominous, nope, not at all."

Harry chuckled, "Putting that aside for now, if you're offering me a job, then I'm accepting. If your undecided, then maybe we could do a trial period or something, I'll leave that up to you. I'll fetch Sirius, and let you talk amongst yourselves for a spell. The fact is; I could talk about him until the cows come home, and you still won't know him unless you meet him."

"That sounds reasonable, alright Mr Black, give us five minutes and we'll talk again."

"Call me Harry."

HPF

"What are you thinking, Zoë?"

"Well, I think things won't be boring if we bring them on board. But he seems like the decent sort."

"Underground racing, hustlin' cards, robbing folk, since when did they become the decent sort?" Mal snorted.

"Since we stopped being soldiers, and started hustling and robbing folk, Sir," Zoë deadpanned.

Mal chuckled, "I suppose you're right about that."

"Fact is Sir, we need a pilot, and Harry's a good one by all accounts. He doesn't seem fond of the Alliance, and they're used to the work we do. Some morals too, wouldn't hold for smuggling girls. He seems decent."

"He does, don't he? And the other one?"

"Sounds like a mix of Jayne, Wash and Kaylee, only with less whores and pretty things," she answered, barely stumbling over Wash's name, which Mal ignored.

"Ain't that a frightful image? Well, I guess we'll know for sure in a little while."

HPF

"Sirius, playtime's over."

"Harry, I'm on a streak here, go play in the corner for a little while."

Harry sighed, "What if I told you we could be getting jobs on a transport ship, our kind of work, possibly long-term?"

Sirius perked up at that, "Seriously? No more Batman and Robin, Calvin and Hobbes, Butch and Sundance?"

"How do you even know about those?"

Sirius waved him off, "I got bored at Grimmauld, that's beside the point. So like, a full crew and everything, I mean, other people. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Stop being a smart-arse, it's a maybe. Could go either way I reckon, you want to talk to them?"

"Harry, I'm busy though."

"I'll take over for you. They're sitting in the main room waiting for you, one man one woman, brown coats, military posture, can't miss them."

"Er… fine. But you had better not lose for me. I'll be back in a bit." Sirius rose from the table and Harry took his place facing off against the other four.

"Oh, and Sirius, I may have said that you would work for free," Harry added innocently.

"Damn it Harry, why do you hate me so much?" Sirius whined.

Harry scoffed, "It's not like you need any more money."

"It's the principle of the thing; you can't just volunteer me for free labour."

"Bye Sirius," Harry called out cheerfully as he watched his godfather leave the room. "You all gonna stare at me or are we gonna play."

"Play," one of the men answered.

"Alright then, let's go… what are we playing?"

"Snap, you ready young'un?"

"Still? Alright, yeah I'm ready… This is better when they explode," he mumbled the last bit.

"What was that?"

"…Nothing."

"Pay attention!"

HPF

When they had first travelled through the veil, it didn't take long for Harry to realise all of his magical possessions were inconveniently absent, and the same was true for Sirius. Because of this, they needed to adapt to survive, and for the most part, they had. They could no longer perform the grand spectacles wizards could accomplish with wands, and you could bet all the money you have they would not be taking part in any magical duels anytime soon.

Despite this, they retained their magic, and so had only needed a new way for them to access it. The first breakthrough was made by Harry, while in the middle of a bar fight instigated by Sirius, he managed to tap into his magic and use it to augment his body. Although it wasn't a drastic amount of improvement, he was faster and stronger than anyone else in that bar, even grown men twice his size.

From there they had progressed rather quickly, in their opinion, once he had taught Sirius how to do the same that is. They had quickly discovered the only things they could accomplish were passive in nature, and so had creatively termed what that could do as passive magic: augmenting their bodies, imbuing there magic into objects, and even the mind arts.

Sirius found he was much better at imbuing his magic than anything else they could do, and Harry discovered that without Snape's dubious instruction and the lack of distraction coming from his now dormant — and fully healed — scar, he was surprisingly proficient at the mind arts. Granted, he only had Sirius to test his defences, but they always prevailed, and he easily delved into the minds of those around him, putting aside his conscience in the face of the high probability of betrayal on some of the outer rim planets.

With five years for them to improve upon their skills, Harry had managed to hone his mind arts into, well, an art. He had progressed far beyond simple occlumency and ligilimency, easily influencing the minds of those around him, and even remotely possessing small creatures such as cockroaches, mice and small birds. Not that it had much use other than the obvious advantages for spying.

It was due to these skills that when Sirius walked into the private room they had hired some time later, he was not entirely surprised to find four men in a vegetative state. Meanwhile Harry painstakingly used the cards to build a large structure, vaguely resembling that of Hogwarts quidditch pitch, which Sirius couldn't help but be impressed by; he even had the six hoops!

Harry was just adding the final additions to the last of the seating when he spotted his godfather, "How did it go?"

"Good, we are now hired on a trial basis for the transport vessel Serenity, and when I say we, I mean you're hired, while I'm now providing free labour, thanks for that."

"You know you don't care for the money, and you were lying just now, what are you getting?"

Sirius sighed, "Dammit Harry, you know I don't like it when you do that."

"Quit whining, I can't stop myself from detecting lies, that's like asking the sun to stop being hot."

"Fine, besides room and board, I get my pick of any broken or replaced parts of the ship to do whatever I want with. Also, free healthcare, there's a Doctor on board. Now, did you get anything from their minds?" Sirius asked.

"Only that the offer was above board, seemed rude to dig any deeper than that."

"Fair enough," Sirius answered before frowning, "Speaking of rude, what's with the awesome foursome over here?"

"They are all currently grumbling on about how even though I don't respect the game, I'm still winning nearly every hand. A shared hallucination, if you will."

"Oh, that's pretty neat."

Harry grinned, "Yes it is, so what's the plan then?"

"We're meeting them at their ship the day after tomorrow. I figure we can clear out Prongs tomorrow, and store it somewhere. And apparently, there are a couple of fugitives serving as crew for Serenity. Captain Reynolds didn't come out and say it, but I am a good enough at ligilimency to pick up some stuff. Simon and River Tam apparently, wanted by the Alliance for the things the girl knew. It was Reynolds and his crew who let the 'verse know about the Miranda debacle."

"Well that is interesting…" Harry trailed off.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we are going to enjoy working for Malcolm Reynolds. From the sounds of it, we won't be bored in any case."